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I can feel my blood boil. My eyes picking out all the imperfections. Harsh criticism that makes me bleed from the inside out.
There are no flaws with the body I wear.
When I was a young child, I loved myself. I confidently strutted my polka-dot sweater and striped skirt,
"I am Flawless" I mean I guess....I didn't always think so though. The way my stretch marks curve over my lower. The baby tooth I have that refuses to come out.
Flawless It is just a word People strive to become it People die to become it But it is just a word Beauty is in the eye of the beholder That's one person's opinon
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