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The Skin I'm In

Scrapped,
Scarred bu burns,
pitied by others I hide my face,
my skin, myself
From Them.
Devoured by the heat, eaten by the fiery rays of the sun.
Why?
Why I'm I scarred?
What did I do?
In the end, this is my skin.
I can complain, I can fight it, or I can accept it.





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Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Oct. 8, 2011 at 10:27 am

So sad, so sad. Why must we live in a world where one's value is determined by his body and not his soul? And when people judge someone harshly by his or her appearance, the soul may be injured brutally as well.

You got that across well with your poem, and with your author's comment. Though sad about the state of the human mind, I'm delighted that you are thoughtful enough to look to the interior of an individual, and acknowledge that one must "accept his own skin." :)

 
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