My scars are hidden, 

Not self-inflicted

Still they reflect, 

My anatomical neglect.


See, I was born with a battle. 

And I've just got to deal, 

But your comments rattle

And ampilfy the pain I feel. 



As I take each step.

You bash in my confidence, 

Or any little bits left.


But I will win, 

The conquest within me. 

Just you wait,

And you'll see.


So, I fight my body,

To become a better me. 

You fight my soul,

But I'm a butterfly with wings. 


Poetry Slam: 


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