i know that if you cut my skin, it would drip

but more than blood would fall

there’d be a culture, heritage, and truth

and it would stain, no matter how hard the rain

i’d know where it came from

because my skin scars easily, but i’m not ashamed

every red drop is a word, every healed mark a story

proof of life, chronicled history

Evidence that our bodies are living poetry

And will pens the verses of our lives