Like badges of honor
my stretch marks and scars
outline my history.

They are not beautiful,
yet, I still am.

They tell the ugly truths
about all the hurts and hells
that I have lived through.

I do not love them,
yet, I love myself.

These lines that mark me
define so much of what I’ve been
and limit what I can become.

I embrace them,
as part of myself.