Unfinished

 

I am Unfinished.

My edges aren't sanded smooth

There are creases and circles worn into my eyes,

There are scars and callouses on my hands

There are stripes of uneven bronze across my skin

There are freckles and imperfections on my face

They tell the story of who I am.

Filters airbrush over the the things I love

And crop me out of the picture.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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