Tummy big to hide it
Breast too small to be seen
They call you a boy a shame to girls.
Body too thin.
Baby, imperfection kills
YOU ARE READING
Misunderstood
PoetryYou could hear it all... The sweet rhythm she made with her violin The banging of the stick to the drums The sound that came were hiccups and screams What happened to them.
Sixty one
Tummy big to hide it
Breast too small to be seen
They call you a boy a shame to girls.
Body too thin.
Baby, imperfection kills