I am a marked person;
at times by choice,
at others by life,
and though I love beauty,
I’m not ethereal.

Some look at my skin and wonder “why”?
Others, look with pride
and declare my strength
for having ‘endured’ the pain.
Yet I remain the same either way.
Flattered by the compliments
but fine within myself as before.

My marks are about expression
as opposed to conformity.
They are my way of defying
Society’s definitions of worthiness -
“if”
I am to be considered beautiful…

The ART upon my skin is my smile
in the face of those who seek to dehumanize me
through the brutality of their ignorance.

Do I offend?
What else is new…
And of course my answer remains the same:
then look away
and fix your sights
on something more to your liking…
say perhaps a mirror?