I own this flesh. Every curve and ripple, every swell of breast with every rise of every breath, I own this flesh. Every stretch marking me mother, every scar reminding me survivor, every drop of blood spilled was not in vain for I have learned I own this flesh. Every insecurity ever felt, Real or imagined, perished the moment I learned that I owned this flesh. That beneath skin and bones lay a women so wise that she had the sense to not only subsist, but thrive. I cultivated a separate identity centered in strength and focalized on inner peace where all other influences cease and only love can caress what I possess because I own this flesh.