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.