Eczema
My raw steak colored skin
fl
ak
es
off
I am afraid
That others will see my flesh falling like snow
I am red and pink
But I am meant to be brown
I would like to scream
But I should be silent
There comes a day
Every now and then
when I look in the mirror
And I don’t cringe
There comes that day
When I don’t smear makeup on
I don’t put my hood up
I can not hide
My illness anymore
Why am I not as beautiful
As the rest?
The reality is that I am
Even though I fear the judgement that consumes the best of us
I have already been judged
By me.
I found myself worthy. It is enough.