I am done counting bruises
taking selfies of blotches
as reminders that I am entitled
to my pain
There are some mirrors
that are kind, say I am lovely
I just want to take a dallying stroll
unmanaged by traffic light
When I stopped brooding
tabulating who wronged who
is when I see my hues multiply
I don't assume compliments
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem