I’m painting a picture of my mystique.
Of my crooked lines and strange physique.
I’m fulfilling my part of the self-love pledges.
And refusing to brush away my rough edges.
I’m showing the rewards of my foolish lies.
And proudly displaying the circles beneath my eyes.
My skin bears gifts from the morning sun.
And scars from childhood fun.
I’m painting a picture of nature’s grand.
I’m painting a portrait of me.