Posted in Life, New, Poetry


2:04 PM
My life was never perfect 
but I feel happy.
Despite the tragic moments,
I am still piling up the memories.
I am short and plump,
with thick waist and chunky legs.
These flaws never did awaken the insecurity
from within.
I am confident.
I believe  that I was perfectly made.
Got scars on my legs,
the marks never did hinder me from showing it off.
I am fat and that’s the truth,
but I don’t think of it as an excuse not to wear beautiful clothes.
As long as it looks decent and fits me well,
I will not stop wearing them for all that I care.
Same color of shoes and bag
I love to wear.
It’s my sense of style,
I do feel good about the matching flare.
I am not fond of comparing
myself with anyone.
As long as I am happy,
I don’t  care what the haters will say against me.
Putting colors on my face 
is my form of therapy.
It makes me look good
and I love its effect on me.
Curling my hair with an iron
is such a tedious activity.
But it do wonder to my boring
straight hair.
I can proudly say that 
I was brought up without a sense of insecurity.
I love me, 
I  don’t need the approval of anybody in order for me to feel good in front of everybody.


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