Sometimes wanted, or maybe not.
Standing out and barely there;
Little bumps of sunlight stories
And marks of potential past lives.
Bloated, sickly reddened;
Pustules in need of relief
And in need of concealment.
Accidental and on purpose.
From other beings or myself;
Some tales that can be laughed at
And others that can be forgotten.
All of which I wear with pride.
My burnt to tan skin branded
By the life that I have lived
And the life that lives in me.