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-



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.