they’re scrawled across our bodies

written through our flesh

we can’t fathom how they’re formed

but they terrify us.

so, we keep them hidden

by layers of fabric and cloth

we believe if we ignore them

they’ll evaporate into dust

but they won’t,

for they are the scab you continue to pick

and it is on you to refuse the itch.

then when you think it’s gone,

 it’ll appear again

but, this time, larger

taunting you for what you can’t erase

and we all have them, no matter what is said

for they’re our insecurities

and they’re written on our skin.


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