In the mirror’s cruel reflection, shadows whisper lies,
Echoes of judgments, in a world where beauty dies.
Each cruel word a dagger, piercing through the soul,
But beneath the surface, there’s more than what they stole.

Bodies are landscapes, with stories etched in skin,
Every curve and line, a testament to where we’ve been.
Yet they mock our forms, with tongues dipped in scorn,
Blind to the beauty, in the battles we have borne.

We rise above their taunts, like phoenix from the ash,
With scars that speak of strength, and hearts that do not clash.
For in our varied shapes, there lies a hidden grace,
A beauty that’s unyielding, in the courage we embrace.

So let them hurl their insults, let them cast their stones,
We’ll stand with heads held high, in bodies we’ve made homes.
For every mark they leave, a testament to our fight,
In the tapestry of life, we are the threads of light.