I carry my body Like an outfit I put together in the dark.
I have never been proud of either.
My clothes never match, And I'm terrible at makeup.
My shorts are ripped by the seam. And my thighs are too big for skinny jeans.
I'm never a fan at hiding things.
So When I hide my body, I wear something old and ugly To make up for the lie.
I don't like the features that my mother seems to love,
"You have your grandma's hips" If only she knew I was made fun of.
If it was as easy to throw away just the thought of my insecurities
as it was to throw away my ripped and worn clothes
I'd never carry my body the same as before