Five Words of Fabrication

It doesn’t feel fabricated to me. It’s the most authentic thing I have. Although a decade’s worth of practice still makes me anxious at school. Five words of agony bear the weight of a stab. My modesty challenges the spoken “Aren’t you hot in that?”, tackling judgment-veiled waves. But the protection, the peace, the freedom in owning my style and choosing my religion. Redefining those waves to my own modest veiling. It provides me with cherished love each time. So, I will suffer through the stabs. With words spoken from the lips of what is fabricated to me.