loving herself
my mom never loved her body
she pointed at her beauty marks and called them flaws
she talked about her breasts which sagged with milk and complained about how the hanged down from her body and not upright like the girls in the magazines
she hates the wrinkles from her smile on her eyes and around her lips
whenever she asked me how she looked, i’d always say beautiful because that’s all i could see
my mom is perfect to me and will always be
how can a young girl look up to the woman who gave her the gift of life and not see beauty?
i learned the meaning of beauty is when i looked at her
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.