Mountains

It always starts with a dot

Progresses to a circle

And then a sphere

It’s got beautiful curves

Like a paisley

It looks very pretty

Attracts her and others around

It kindles the consciousness

As it raises up like a mountain

Firm and rigid, yet beautiful and strong 

It also builds insecurities 

As someone else’s hands lay on ‘em 

It can also bring her shame

But it’s not her fault.

It’s helping her nurture 

For, there’s no other that’s better. 

The mountains are cracked

Is it what’s underneath it?

It hurts.

It has to be taken off.

It’s no longer beautiful and no longer useful

It is painful to get it off.

It was her identity.