Ugly

People always say my uneven skin, my bruises, my scars-big and small, make me ugly. Each one from the father who would beat me, Each cut from that small blade hidden in the case of my phone, Makes me ugly? Well I say they show my fight. That when it rained, and others decided to drown, I decided to be baptized. When I hit rock bottom, I didn't cry, I climbed. And each night when I take a shower before bed, the sting from the scars on my back reminds me of the pain. So when you say I'm ugly all I want you to do is feel my pain.