faces are skin for viewing, not for judging
hiding one side of mine to forget the slaps it took
I ask us why is it so difficult for us to embrace our look

if my face was right, my thin body wrong
the sea’s entire palette of blue surrounded me
in my teenage years, something not many bothered to see

I will forget that face and the parallel pain
painting whatever I wish, like stunning flowers
dispensing with my circadian diary of youth’s cruel powers

long neck, crimson flowers, yellows and blue
this will be the happy face I see when I now reflect
while joyfully forgetting that old sorrow, pain, and cruel neglect