Trace every crease of your palm
Describe the scars that lace your heart translucent skin.
Naked, dare yourself
look at your reflection
through a stranger's eyes,
see the map of your life, your story.
They will tell you,
it's not the right kind of flesh
And I will tell them
I have painted constellations in this
These hands have built empires,
brought them down
watched them bleed,
beg on their knees.
Would we still be human
without a few scars to show
as proof that we have battled
and won in this skin?
We have become so accustomed to
shaming each others purple hearts,
we hide them under makeshift thick skin.
Tattooed, scarred, with tiger marks
Look at your reflection.
Skin is skin.