Oh the four walls around me and the balcony in-between.

You know me, you know me so well.
You know my scars better,
You know sizes of my breast, hip better.
You know the way i have marks on my cleavage.
You know i want to go vain but then you know the people around making me feel ashamed of the amount of hair i have on my body.
You even know,
I keep crying just because my social life Keeps demanding me so many things which probably i don’t have! 
There’s only you (the four walls) and the balcony in between, who understands me.

May be because you can’t say anything.

Why don’t people see me standing in that particular balcony?, not seeing my flaws but the good things in me.
Just like you do.

Why its, if i want curly hair the society thinks straighten will look good? And if straighten, curly ???? NOTE: its not just about the hair, my dear. 
Looking me cry, crying for things which are mine say which are real. 
Oh the four walls around me and the balcony in between, do you cry looking me crying? [ we kill us, when they body shame ]
Why? 
Oh the four walls around me and the balcony inbetween, you know I’ll cry even if people start praising brown things around me. 
I don’t want to die, so keep me stronger.