TulipJune

Stretch your taffy skin

Your misshapen bones

Pull at your flesh barrier

Your skin has no name

A part of you is They 

Their hanging breasts 

So downturned

As if they have the intent 

Of simply falling off

They disapprove of this flesh, this carnage

Textured is what we call their legs

Snippets of soft skin beneath pockets of tissue thick with scars

This body is a scream

This body yearns to be anything else.