I wish my face
was like a brand new canvas
perfectly white,
devoid of pencil marks
and paint splatters.
I wish I could cover it up
when it matters,
but no amount of decoration
can hide the scars
etched into my skin.
Anyone who says
that beauty comes from within
is either trying
to make themselves feel better,
or has mastered an art
that eludes people like me.
YOU ARE READING
Habits of the Heart
Poetry𝓜y words are the equivalent of a rose petal spiraling down the Grand Canyon, and you are it's echo.
