I sweat,
don’t stand too close to me.
My skin is fire,
my pores are rivers,
and I won’t apologize
for being alive.
You wrinkle your nose,
but this is my truth:
salt, heat,
the mark of endurance.
Step back if you must,
but know this—
the ones who sweat
are the ones who survive,
while the dry ones
crumble like dust.