What makes me beautiful?


Miles and Miles of skin I wear,
That helps me look beautiful and fair.

But then something makes me incompatible,
The spots, scars and patches I got,
Change that my skin revealed was incredible,
And jeers of people hurt me alot.

That blisters, that pain and discomfort,
Which I suffered was intolerable,
Not a soul was there to support,
However the colour was non recoverable.

Medicines, ointments and  inoculation,
Was the hope that would change my colour,
they used to gawk me at every occasion,
But nobody knows how much i used to suffer.

Teasing, laughing and insults,
Were the reasons why I cried,
It took a lot of courage and guts,
And the fear in me, died.

Miles and Miles of skin I wear,
That still helps me look beautiful and fair.

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