SHE

Her skin was too dark To be called pretty anymore

So she picked on her skin

Bleeding out, tearing skin from flesh

She planted it all in a garden

The one in her house

Where her mother had told her she was beautiful

For the very first time

With a needle, she tried,

To sew herself up again

But soon the homecoming of pain turned into rage

For her beauty and she were never

They were the same

She said she won't feel shallow

But rather be lit up in flames

And turn as dark as ash

But won't be ashamed of who she will be or who she is

Never never again