I'm body conscious,
My adoptive parents are always comparing me to the size of my birth parents
It feels like a tornado sucking away confidence, yet keeping me intact
Or a magic mirror, making me look worse then I am.
But in every storm there is an eye -a calmer part.
This is my friends. They don't care what I look like
They take me for who I am without a care about my looks
But at home, the storm continues on a on and off Autumn- Spring cycle.
But in the summer, the storm migrates and my parents wonder why I'm body concious.
Like a thief playing innocent after stealing jewels; a friend stealing your pen as a joke;
The kid in the class who pretends he/she didn't hear what the teacher said, just to annoy the class.
I'm just sick of this recurring storm. I wan't it to leave, but it wont.
I'm body concious and that's who I am, but I'm always waiting for the storm to blow over for good.
ČTEŠ
Imperfection
PoezieA poem book by the only @acceptyourflaws. Hope you like it. :) Feel free to comment, vote and/or criticize me, just keep it clean and hope you like my first poem book. ( Some of you may know this book as Flaws, but I've had to rename it to make a d...
