Chasing a Shape I Didn't Make

I spent my younger years chasing a shape. Trying to fit in frames I did not

make. Measuring my worth by someone else's scale. Smiling in the mirror

while my confidence failed. Acceptance stayed just out of reach, like a song I heard

but could not keep. I ran on hope and nerves and pride, and tried to outrun what lived inside.

Then time wrote lines I could not erase. And I started reading them as grace.

These scars are not the end of me. They are proof I lived and healed. I don't need perfect

to feel whole. I don't need crowds to make it real. I stand here marked still strong.

I let my body tell its song. Acceptance feels like coming home to what I am,