It's another day in hell.
I wake up to the sun burning my eyes.
I trudge toward the shower.
As I strip my cloths and step in I think about what awaits.
I wondered what they would do to me this time?
Would they kick me in the stomach?
Would they slice a cut on my arm?
I step into the steamy water.
My hands travel down my naked skin.
They travel to my shoulders where there is two alike stabing scars. I was given them because I was weak.
My hands swipe over the bruises on my stomach. I was punched because I was fat.
Next my hands brush over the tears on my legs. I was given these because I was ugly.
Finally my hand brushes over my last imperfection, my cheeks.
I have two sets of twin lines that run from my eyes to my chin. These were gifted to me for I cried.
My head gets dizzy as I think about the reasons.
The reason I had these imperfections was because other people gave me their imperfections.
Each word they called me was transferred to my body by kick, punch, slice.
Each word was their pain being transferred to me.
I wish the pain would stop.
I wish that they won't transfer it.
If only these imperfections could go away.