My face does not edify so my body will not multiply, it will be a sin to produce kin that will have to beautify.

I cannot get away from the ugly, how can I impart such on a ‘they’?

I don’t want to look in my child’s face and lie, tell them they only look bad when they cry.

They live in a world filled with eyes that are colonised by a Western, Eurocentric gaze, it is only if they are in a blurred daze that they will see a gorgeous face.

This body woos and will confuse those who see it.

I own this short crop and dark skin, lank limbs and toned abdomen. Downy hairs as though nearly born, I will attract and retract you.

You will want to coo and caress though I am neither hairless nor fearless.

And in this haze, this maze, you are amazed and fazed at my rareness.


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