I'm wearing this skin

When people start to make me feel uncomfortable 

of the size of my waist,

the flatness of my belly,

or the color of my skin,

I change not my body,

but the people around me.

For if they do not understand 

and accept the outer flaws

how will they appreciate the inside glitters?

I have small eyes

blinded before and adjusted to the dark.

I have a disfigured nose 

that already smelled the cruelty

on the corners of my world.

Pale and bruised lips,

where cupid's bow hit

the stale taste that never left

and has been kissed by pain

even on the edge of the arrow.

Calloused hands

that experienced carrying heavy bags,

draining the softness of my fingers.

I have crooked ears,

that fold themselves every time,

they hear knife like words,

piercing from the largest parts

to the smallest ones.

So when people start to make me feel 

indifferent of what I have

I turn around. 

They might try to make me hate myself

but this skin is mine.

and it only becomes ugly

when they scrutinize each closet,

as if it was theirs to wear

It is not.