CACTUS

I'm a cactus

My skin is ugly and untouchable

Bumpy, rough, not smooth

Unpleasant to look at

Nobody wants to touch the spikes of a cactus

In the same way, nobody wants to touch me

I have my own spikes

I try to get rid of them, but they fight back

My skin is prickly, I don't expect anyone to understand

My skin is covered in bright, red splotches and and sores that leave dark marks

All from the effort of trying to remove thorns that don't belong

And scars from when I was my enemy

Wrinkled, bunched-up, leathery, dry, patchy

As if it can't retain moisture

That disgusts you right? That's what I'm afraid of

Darkness on the joints of my body

Even worse, bumps that come from hormones and anxiety

Wasn't all that enough?

Why me?

Am I even human?

I hide what I hate, and I hate what I hide

I don't expect you to understand

My arms aren't arms, my legs aren't legs, my stomach isn't a stomach

I don't call my body a body

And I don't consider the thing that covers it "skin"

Even the thought of showing it makes me sick

Makes my stomach churn, makes me terrified and sweaty

I could shower for hours, scrub until I bleed

And yet, never feel clean

I feel like there are insects all over my skin, and I can't get them off

Don't look at me, don't look at my face

My fellow cacti stand in deserts, exposed

They can't be embarrassed, since there is nobody there

But since I'm surrounded by people, I have to hide and cover

I am the cactus girl

All I want is to be held, to be hugged

To not flinch and panic when someone looks at me closely, or touches me

I am the cactus girl

Who is the only one of her kind

I am the cactus girl

Nobody will touch me, and I can't blame them

And just like how a cactus stores water

Along with my tears

I keep all of this inside.