Comfortable

I have repressed memories- they are blurred just like my eyes
My vision is weak so I can't see the world as clearly as it sees me
You see me as lazy, pathetic- a never-do-well
Not even one-and-twenty, I've seen and felt so much
I am nothing extraordinary, my skin is brown like tree sap
My hair is coarse like the stubbornest cotton,
It is a dark almost black hue
My height statuesque, and my feet are rather big too
There is nothing sweet about me, I am bitter to the taste
Painful to the touch, I am damaged goods
I know my faults and I embrace them, for they are what I cannot change
I'm not perfect, but I'm rather comfortable with being who I am.