For every little barb
If I had a scar

My ass too big
My boobs too small
My tuneless song
My graceless dance
My shrill voice
My poor choice

My flat nose
My height not right
My skin too tan
MY Stubby hands
My demeanour rough

Never enough.

My skin would
be a ragged

And yet
I collect
them all
And with
a calm.

Still unhurt
I move on!

Am I a volcano
Waiting to erupt
Or have I lost
to explode?
Or have you
got me down
and finally seared
my soul?

Poetry by Seema
Read 708 times
Written on 2017-05-27 at 08:46

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Ann Wood
You make me loud well done

You are indeed a burning fire inside a volcano but you, the person, are not any if those things you mention which are only what you see.

Can feel the blaze burning from inside. Life on earth is strange and full of mysteries..