Imperfections.
Imperfections.
I am someone who will never be
like those airbrushed models on TV.
Or those pretty little cat walk girls,
no, I’ll always wear this size 14.
I am someone who will often bear
the spots upon the chin, facial hair
which some call unappealing for a woman,
it’s always there.
I am someone with constant fear
The terror that you’ll not be here,
the anxious monster inside my head,
that lurks beside, a shadow near.
I am someone with a full list
of the perfections when making me, my creator missed
I note each freckle upon my arm
and smile for its where the sun has kissed.
And whilst inside I am on my own,
The bird must trust her wings alone,
Though you become my olive branch,
my little piece of home.
You see I am not perfect,
Perhaps I’m hardly worth it.
But when I think of things that others don’t see,
there is no one better, than imperfect me.
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