My mood has been down lately,
Nothing seems to be improving.
At the same time, it worsens unlikely,
My feet remain locked, helpless.
I watch myself in the mirror,
Who is this person? She seem unfamiliar,
Scars and scratches on her body,
Something she desperately attempted to erase.
Marks on her skin engraved like a curse,
Fear it might become worse,
Especially the time when she's no longer deemed as beautiful,
Will people still love her despite being distasteful?
In a world ruled by society,
Where people only love you if you're a jewel,
What will become of me, who does not fit?
When they say I need a 'fix'. I believe them.
When will I truly love this hideous face of mine,
I've been taught to despise myself.
When will this cursed chain be broken,
And when will I be content?
- aanijian
YOU ARE READING
Sentient (Scars)
RandomThis is not a story. It's about what I experience, perceives, and observe. Grievances that cannot be expressed all the wounds caused, are all here and read, not just about myself but for others as well.
