what i'm made of

The skin i've donned since birth has provided me with protection and a base for my identity.
this mouth, this nose
this pair of eyes that hardly close
my fingers and my toes
some becoming crooked by my own actions
the stubborn wavy hair on my head
coffe coloured skin
the eyebrows that i took great pride of for no apparent reason

The dimple in my cheek only appears when i smile but it gets deeper with each smile i cast.
I've learned to smile when i want to,
when i don't want to,
when i had to,
and not to smile when i want to but i'm not supposed to.

The surface is covered with scratches and scars from countless escapades,
from justified and unjustified fights
from sticks and stones that have been hurled towards me,
the balls that richoched from my foot and ending up in my face,
scars that would not have stayed on had it not been for my ignorance

the lines in my face bear markings,
from each time i frown in deep thought,
be it from contemplating the troubles of my own,
the burdens of others which i really want to lift,
methods of setting the worlds to right,
or maybe i was just making up my mind about what to have for lunch.

Problems that i endured have produced blood, sweat and tears
all of which has gushed and flowed across me
filling the time-made canals which deepens with each episode of live
i don't think they have ever been completely dried up.

my body bears witness
of all the wrong decisions i've made
of all the right ones that seemed wrong at first, but proved right in the end
evidence of my stupidity, my wisdom, and my stupidity to ignore my wisdom

it might have been nice to have a pristine surface
but somehow my cover just can't betray my insides
i am what i was born with,
what my mistakes are,
what i've learned,
what i've been through,
what i choose to be.

had i learned different things,
had i chose different choices,
i might have a different outlook.

but it wouldn't have been me.