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On Beauty and Swans This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Sometimes I want to rip my skin
down the middle
and step out of my body.
Step out of my body
and into something new.
I hate the heaviness of my limbs
the imperfect stomach
the blocky thighs.
I hate the half grown out hair
the eyes the color of mud
the cheekbones that sink my eyes,
and make my jawline non-existent.
I hate this old self.
I am sure that my soul
is thin and beautiful
the color of the sky at midnight
and radiant with promise.
I am sure that underneath these layers
the skin that isn't clear
the muscle that is underdeveloped
the fat
the organs
there is something frail and fragile
a beautiful newly hatched swan
of a creature
my soul.
I am sure my soul is beautiful.
sometimes I look at myself
and for a moment I seem radiant
and black as midnight
and sibilant as the swan's hiss
a gentle wisp of human form.
But then it is back
to thighs and hips
and the inability to put on make-up.

even when I am at my worst though
I remember
the hiss of the swan
midnight skies
and my soul
curled in my ribcage
bursting with life
frail and fragile
truly beautiful
and ready to be noticed.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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