Learning to Be Imperfect in a Perfectionist World
Uttered lies out of my mouth,
Spewed by the confusion that lied deep within the weary parts of my mind.
I hid under masks that were not only cracked, but were fit for a pauper,
In many cases, tattered and worn out.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and couldn’t quite understand,
I saw a girl who was dying for approval,
Such to not fit in, but to be liked by someone.
She dressed up in her finest clothing,
Presented herself with great worth to the world,
But underneath hid mysteries unknown.
Her eyes told a story to the portal of her soul…
She would push away anyone that would dare come near to understand the truth that hid beneath the surface.
Perfection was her role model,
But she hated the results.
Running down the line of possibilities,
She seeked after the power of embracing imperfection,
It felt like a foreign term to be accepted for who she was.
She stumbled on her mistakes,
And with her pink, rosy cheek,
She realized intertwining mistakes into her life was an okay fact.