If I could I’d frame your stretch marks
You only get them two ways:
By giving birth or dropping weight
Either way, serious pain
She is my pride, my bride
But before her, vato, my pride was my bride
Picture of endurance gave birth to our miracle
Those lines are memorials, freedom from the torture
Those pounds you put on were a defense mechanism
Like "Maybe if I was ugly, then he would stop touching me"
You endured the teasing of a fat girl on a track team but you kept running
You tuned out the ridicule and every calorie burned was cause for celebration
Those lines are victory laps, eternal gold medals
When I see them, I’m reminded of freedom, I’m so proud of you
How can I ever question your strength or ever doubt you?
Your struggle inspires physical literature
The pain that gave life and the scars
To prove it, if I could, I’d frame them