They

CATEGORY

life

They call me Boujee I say I'm  blessed. They say I think I'm all that I I say I passed Gods test. They want me to be to be perfect some say that's how I act Ive mastered being perfectly imperfect and that's a fact. I walk with my head high as if everything is in tack. I cry at night wishing someone would say something back. Up the next day like my smile never cracked. They want me to be ugly and hate who I am . I never thought I was pretty but I would never tell them . They question all my choices and hope I don't do good, I just keep doing better like a real woman should. They talk about my past and who I choose to date but until they've walked in my shoes I know they won't relate. I've accepted who I am and all my many flaws I wear them proudly they are me my ugly but pretty scars.