Surgery Is Like Making A Trade With A Witch/Underwire

Y’all know what I mean

Nothing comes for free—

You get some random shit

You didn’t ask for

When you go through with the deal

Good and bad, and

Depending on your circumstance

It can go very well for you

Or very poorly. It’s a gamble.

Also— accidents, mistakes, emergencies happen

Much like the witch

God has her own plan—

For me, the trade I made

That I didn’t expect

Was trading in two tits,

To never have to wear bras again

In exchange for

An underwire of scars ,

Tugging, rolling, squeezing and pulling

Much more than skin deep

A scar bra, so to speak

To remind me of them.


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