A Present To Myself

I wallow in self-hate pitifully often Nitpicking every single flaw I have But sometimes when I observe myself From outside my body I admire myself My sturdy vessel that is covered in scars Child birthing hips Capable of recreation Eyes filled with golden nectar A heart that is home to many I’m a creation of God I’m precious for being born Others might think this is not self-love You fools do not understand that this is The epitome of self-love—