I wish you knew me,

in my braless, hairy-legged body,

bursting, laughing, like a banshee,

in the streets, playing roller hockey,

knotted hair, face bare,

wearing hanging hand-me-downs and the sun on my shoulders,

before being molded, scolded and unfolded,

to be loved by anyone else.

Before I felt,

not good enough.

Tell me, would you still want this girl?

Would she still deserve the world?