If you look at my scars and feel disgusted, I don’t blame you; you’re shallow and that’s okay.
My scars are part of my beauty, etched on my dark skin and bringing curiosity to the mind of those that see.
My scars are helpful reminders of battles fought; victories and losses thereafter.
My scars are choices made, maps of where I’m coming from.
My scars are artworks by an artist, “Past”, my ebony body it’s gallery; showing the life I’ve lived, reminding me the life I’ve missed.
I’m proud of my scars. You should be too.

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