Don’t tell me to love this body I am in,
to appreciate the life it gives me,
to value the way it carries me or
to reconfigure my brain
and see the imperfections as perfect.
Don’t you dare tell me to be positive.
Tell the men who abused my body,
who used my body,
who pointed out every flaw,
that my body is something to admire.
Tell the women who tear down my body,
who laugh at my body,
who make comments about my body,
that my body is something to be proud of.
I know the worth that is within my body.
I don’t need to be told I’m a work of art;