There are days when I stop to wonder, Is this body too much of a burden? The face, the marks, the scars, The layers and layers of skin, Sometimes it sweats and the other times it is almost too withered. I notice my thighs, my knees and calves, Why do I have to live in this body? Is this my obligatory home? An obligatory home where the dry skins and stretch marks are lied to everyday, Like children are lied to everyday, That everything will be alright. And eventually children believe those lies. Because we will make up anything, To authenticate our bodies.
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