Framed Stretch Marks - Propaganda, Braille

Dimelo!

Eres mi Alma!

Siempre!

If I could I’d frame your stretch marks

You only get them two ways

Giving birth or dropping weight

Either way, serious pain

She is my pride, my bride

But before her vato my pride was my bride

The picture of endurance, gave birth to a miracle

Them lines are memorials, freedom from the torture

And pounds you put on were the defense mechanism

Like «Maybe if I was ugly, then he would stop touching me»

And you endured the teasing of a fat girl on a track team and kept running

Huh, you tuned out the ridicule and every calorie burn

A cause for celebration

Them lines are victory laps, eternal gold medals

When I see ‘em, I’m reminded of the freedom, I’m so proud of you

How can I ever question the strength and ever doubt you?

And your struggles inspire, it’s physical literature

But the pain who gave life with the scars

To prove it, if I could, I’d frame them

It isn’t love if it doesn’t hurt

If you don’t feel it, then it doesn’t work!

The pain removes the scales, pulls back the veil

The bruises in the blood will always tell the tale

Of the grace of grief, the beauty of brokenness

The piece of pain, the hope of hopelessness

The ease of emotion, the frame for the feelings

The scars and stretch marks, the proof of God’s healing

Yeah, the birth pains have changed

Stretched to the limits, stretched marks from giving birth

To the death of a cynic and cinematic

My emotions like motion pictures imagine

A world with no beauty in it, all I see is the negative

Undeveloped negatives, nothing worth framing in my frame of mind

It’s like an empty gallery with white painted walls

All the flaws are hidden, I just wanna adjust my focus

Cause all I ever noticed is the thorns on the roses

And it’s moments like this when my hope is misguided

And I’m looking for perfection in a place I can’t find it

My body bears the marks of missing the mark daily

The only hope I hold is knowing that my God will never fail me

Even though I fall short and that’s no tall tale

Now I drive my point home with that new car smell

I see beauty in the scars, like colors in a collage

The greatest love gave me life through His death on the cross, yeah!

It isn’t love if it doesn’t hurt

If you don’t feel it, then it doesn’t work!

The pain removes the scales, pulls back the veil

The bruises in the blood will always tell the tale

Of the grace of grief, the beauty of brokenness

The piece of pain, the hope of hopelessness

The ease of emotion, the frame for the feelings

The scars and stretch marks are the proof of God’s healing