If I don't say a word, they will read it in my expression. I've been told that I have a very emotive face, and truly, those who've told me aren't wrong. In my eyes, my life story plays in a loop of horror and romantic tragedy, but the remote to pause, or even stop the movie went missing long ago. From my cheeks burn a rosy fire of passionate embarrassment; they glow radiant tales of love and loss, the life of a teenage wannabe. My ears wiggle with the words of my friends and the secrets that it takes such effort to keep quiet; my tongue bears the weight of a thousand worlds and the lightness of free speech. My hair frames the sharp chin cut to a knife's blade by the swords of bullies words, and the scar on my forehead reminds me of a fight long ago.

But the one thing they'll never know.. the one thing that is only mine, it's found somewhere quieter than my loud mouth or shouting eyes. My darkest secret is found below my t-shirt, around my hips. It's mine, it's mine, it's mine.