Through My Eyes: A Verse Novel

My Marks

If every mark on my body told a story
Every cut, blemish, and bruise
It would take you a decade
To finish the novel they wrote for you

Would you listen to their words
Would you take the time to understand
The journey my body has been through
To get me where I am

The faded scars on my wrists
Tell the story of a girl
Who felt she wasn't good enough
To stay in this world

The stretch marks on my hips
I have had for too many years
Because I'd rather eat until I was sick
Than let myself shed a tear

And the scabs that cover my shoulders
And my face and my legs
Are the battlegrounds of a war
That still continues today

But you don't see my story
You see a worn, torn, imperfect body
And a girl who
Doesn't seem to notice the truth
That she isn't perfect
But neither are you

My marks are, in fact,
More than just skin-deep
They keep me on my feet

They keep me above ground
Enveloping me with the sounds
Of both happy and sad memories

They are not blemishes
They are not bruises
They are my life story
They are my past that has made me who I am

Why would I want to change my past
And create a different me
Who has not seen the wonderful things
That I have, and will, see