Don't tell me
That whenever I wear
A muscle shirt
Or a tanktop
That my biceps spill across my ribcage
Like waves
Crashing against a beach
They crash against my skin
Red and purple stretch marks
Blossoming upon my scarred up vessel
Boring into your sight
Don't tell me
Because I already know
Don't tell me
That my stomach protrudes
Further than your standards can accept
Rigid lumps of fat clustered upon my torso
And ribs
Far from being smooth
A flat stomach nothing but a myth
With these stretch marks riding up my stomach
Like lightning bolts
In the sky
I'm far from being supermodel thin
Don't tell me
Because I already know
Don't tell me
That my broad shoulders
Make me look like a man
That the only piece of femininity
My upper body beholds are my breasts
Moles punctuate my broad shoulders
Seeming to accumulate more flaws
To pick out
Don't tell me
Because I already know
Don't tell me
That my thighs are hideous
Simply because they spill
From beneath my shorts
Discoloration painting them in shades of red and pink
That there is no gap
So instead they touch one other
Like a loving couple
Bodies entwined in a silhouette of limbs
My thighs are lovers
Always close together
Flawed in many ways
But never alone
Don't tell me
Because I already know
Don't tell me
That my teeth are crooked
And yellowing
Like corn stocks
Swimming in a sea of green
But my teeth
Swim in a sea of pink
Hidden behind pursed lips
Exposing themselves whenever my vocal chords produce a laugh
To which you will point out the flaws
I keep hidden behind pursed lips
Don't tell me
Because I already know
Don't tell me
My body is flawed
With stretch marks
That I painted on myself
Merely because I have a love
For sweet things
That produce fat onto my vessel
With scars
That I clumsily placed upon myself
Or the scars
That were completely intentional
Due to a swamp of self hatred
Of sadness
Of helplessness
Of feeling unworthy
With moles
Punctuating my skin
Like periods
Ending each sentence
I've left unspoken
With bruises
From scabs I couldn't let be
I wanted to watch the blood spill again
From beneath the crusted brown
My body is my canvas
And I'm filling it up
Bit by bit
My painting is lackluster
But it's mine
Don't tell me
My body is flawed
Because I already know
