Acne domain

                           Acne domain pimple stories
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geocliff I see your pain, daydreamers of art...
Autoplay OFF   â€Ē   14 days ago
Pimples are blops that come and go but the scars they leave in our skin and confidence are no fleeting storms. Does acne make people ugly? ðŸ˜ąðŸ‘ðŸ‘ŽðŸ’”ðŸĶĒðŸĶðŸĨ€

Acne domain

Potted under my skin the smooth surface bubbles roots parasitic to my spared youth

pointing white, red and black it's waxy flag of sticky odor on the peachy foam of cheeks

my plate of food filled up but only to swell

with plump plumps of rashes and pinches

that leak scars embarrassing to mirror outside of the makeup coat of aesthetic cosmos.

Swaying below my neck and across my waving chest sweat intoxicates the pores bloated

and agitates the very foundation of balance levelling up acids like bitter session has

arrived to bloom it's way out of my shaky

scale to a festive coronation of the pimple kingdom for the hard work grease built

across my blockade of dead skin and shame computes my confidence counterclockwise.

Stirring treatment after potion the threat has colonised my shoulder blades and back scraping at the

tissue friction with each clothing material as if to light a forest agleam and off the map of health for sun to never

tan proudly the begging cells for a smooth

even exterior thus disgust pledges to mask eternally such grotesque outburst

of rebellion to beauty culture,

the acne domain has won the war.

Am I ugly for desiring the same glances of attraction just like the clean skin tones of luckier

growing peers or because of how colourfully alarming is to look like a skinned clown with permanent cracks and dipps

for eyes to get sunken in, glaring at the

pathetic attempt of failed self- preservation?

Looking glass of memory, I never was pretty nor disturbing, I was just me, blending in with what mouths

would jab my way with no judgement as to what was true or false regarding my identity and now I see that

the holes on my heart are heavier then the

ones in my face yet I look at a loving child pained to be accepted and regarded for

the struggle scars leave within it's consciousness and I cry tears of joy for how strong I am to

break realising that beauty is the empathic

way I look at myself and continue walking behind broken mirrors...

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