Unfinished
I am Unfinished.
My edges aren't sanded smooth
There are creases and circles worn into my eyes,
There are scars and callouses on my hands
There are stripes of uneven bronze across my skin
There are freckles and imperfections on my face
They tell the story of who I am.
Filters airbrush over the the things I love
And crop me out of the picture.
This poem is about:
Me