Perfection is perceived as a impossible conclusion of ones-self.
Yet we don’t look beyond what we think is perfection,
And see with our eyes that,
Everyone has something that makes them ‘unique’, can’t that be called perfection?

To be your own person and to strive to be the best you you’re capable of, isn’t that
Flowers have lines and purple colored veins,
yet when we see this in our human selves we think, we chastise, they’re ugly and plain.

Having stretch marks shouldn’t mean your vile,
Your a mama’ lion you went that extra mile.
Having crooked teeth shouldn’t be frowned upon,
At least those people have a real smile, it’s not put-on.
Having frizzy hair shouldn’t be a bully’s approach,
It should be a source of attraction, like fire on a torch.

It seems silly people make these things to be simple and unneeded,
When did it becomes societies way to become unfairly treated,
for something that your genetics made,
Because lord only knows how were were made is how you should stay.

There’s no perfect or imperfect.
There’s people who can look in the mirror and say, I feel great today.
Then there are those who look in societies mirror and say, now it’s to late.

Being perfect is neither of those things, in fact.
It’s about looking in the mirror and saying,
Yeah, I’m me, and I like that.


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