By Chapter 16

Teen angst

Permanently scarred on my left ankle

No eyes but mine linger to

Everything I once did went without consequence

That wasn’t enough

I had to rebel

I had to lose the trust I worked so hard to earn

Something as little as a nickel upon my skin

A tiny planet engraved into my skin

My nails still broken from squeezing a rubber ball too hard

A tiny, inked planet resembled rebellion


My childhood

And somehow

An answer for why I’ve been so lost


My childhood is painted on my forehead

Cracked open like a shell

A crescent that appeared when my rickety self

Rocked myself out of a chair when I was six

Cries escaped my mouth

That I’ve never heard before

Not of pain or sadness

Of disappointment

I was six


Discoloration lines my thighs and hips

My mother, on her second child

Almost lost her

Flown in from helicopter

She went into labor after five months of being pregnant

Had lost all hope

Four months later

Still premature

Desperate for another child,

The doctor tried and tried again

Discoloring me in the process


A surfboard

Caught my foot

Not a wave

Faintness overcame me

I fell in the sand

Awoken in a hospital bed

To the artificial noise of waves

Transported from the beach


Craters upon my skin

The makings of puberty

Lines stretch from one hip to the other

From one breast to the other

If you try hard enough

You can feel them

From the outside

Like tunnels under your skin


Photos of me don’t exist out there

No mirror knows who I am

By chapter 16

This is me

This is what I live within

Scarred but beautiful



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