Yes, Mom, I’m Wearing a Crop-top

Pale epidermis,

Lightning, tiger stripes

Deep and dark as caverns.

 

War wounds I flash.

Marks to show I’ve changed-

Grown.

 

But they see me and

Complain for me to

Pull down my shirt.

 

Cover the fact that

I love the me

In this skin sack.

 

I love my outer layer,

The way my body moves,

How my figure looks in the mirror.

 

Show off what your momma gave you

But mine prefers I cover up,

Don’t let people see the stretch marks.

 

I could care less.

Fight me.

Turn away.

 

Just know that my stomach is here to stay.