The stretched marks

The stretched marks,

On my hips,

Are perfectly incomplete.

But yet to complete.

How human?

The patterns of mundane!

I love the way that look.

The mandalas, tattooed in my book!

The metabolism,

And the catabolism,

Rooted up to my thighs.

Will double after another twenty years with sighs.

Like the “pale face”.

Traps in my house, the maze!

The stretched marks,

They just remarks. 

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