Marks of Freedom

A woman at eleven,
burdened by innocent shame,
carrying the weight of stares
both elementary confused and
maturely lewd.
Often well recognized but nameless.
What made my figure full
convinced my soul to empty...
An abyss behind mountains.

A decision at eighteen,
trusted that a blade
would be the key to unlocking
banished pride in being me,
accepting that there would be scars...
         arched marks of freedom.