Never have I seen anything about myself as flawless;

The cuts that once covered my body, like paint strokes on a damaged canvas,

Or the meat that covers my bones, crushing me so that I can feel every pound.

I am starting to see these flaws that once ate me alive in a new light,

These flaws have made me; they’ve sculpted me into who I am.

Rather than curse my past, I have learned to see strength;

My scars are flawless; they are proof that I can live through depression,

My body is flawless; it has lived through starvation and abuse that I have inflicted on myself.

The transformation from turning flaws into something flawless was the first step to my recovery,

Even though sometimes I feel as though I am spiraling back into relapse,

I can always step back and see how flawless I am and that my body deserves respect.