The Garden of Myself
My face.
Incorrect.
A visage I never truly felt connected to.
My body.
A trap.
Awkward in both weight and proportions.
My self.
Inwardly, a butterfly,
Beautiful and free.
Outwardly, a stone,
Plain and anchored by a weight both physical and emotional.
My gender is right but my body is wrong.
I was to be graceful and elegant, social and gracious.
I am instead broad-shouldered and overweight, introverted and shy.
I will never get to be dainty and graceful.
Nor will I ever be the perfectly formed rose, the masterpiece of the garden.
I may however grow to like myself and with time, cultivate myself into the place for others To shine and to grow into themselves.
I shall become a garden, filled with the roses of other souls.
