I am not a masterpiece,
nor am I an art piece,
so can you kindly look away
and not stare at me so intently as if
you're trying to study me
for a class that you're taking.
I do not belong in a museum or in a gallery
so please stop putting me out
for all to gawk at and stare
because I am not a piece of work,
I am a human being with feelings
and I feel terrified.
I do not have scars so you can see
and ask what happened.
I hide them beneath my clothing
so stop trying to uncover me
so that you may see every last flaw of me.
My scabs are for me to pick,
not for you to peel back
and investigate what story is
hiding underneath.
I am not a masterpiece,
nor am I an art piece,
so would you please stop
treating me like an object
and treat me like a human with feelings.
YOU ARE READING
I Was She
Poetry[Complete] A series of poems and short stories tell the sad tale of a breakup, of rejection, and of finding new love. From losing her soulmate to learning to see the world from a different perspective, M.A. Rivers writes down every last feeling that...