Imperfect I Am

October 4, 2010
By Anonymous

Here I am, here I stand. Imperfect is the word. I’m never good enough for you, but I don’t care. Plastic is for toys, not boobies. I may not fit the mold, but imperfect is the new perfect. You’re just not worth it. You make me wanna run, wanna hide, but I’m threw with that. My back is turned on you. I’m moving on, you set me free with your hurtful words. Should have known you’d bring me heart ache. I want to spend the rest of my life with you gone from my side.

My flaws are not claws; your words only cause brawls. You make fun of my nose; it makes me want to cry. The tears that stream down from my eyes create pools of dark blue memories. If skin and pills are the secret to perfection, I don’t want any part of it. I’m gonna dance, I’m gonna strut, I’m gonna make myself known. These images are everywhere, top models, dancers, actors, but I don’t wanna look like you because you’re too perfect. My hips, my thighs, my hands, my curves, picture me. Here I am, here I stand, look at me. I’m so sick of you and your words. Look at all my flaws, there here to see; for you and me.

I’ve been burned one time too many, my heart ripped open, you left me broken. I’m not gonna run, I’m gonna smile; prove you wrong and all your lies. Watch me do it, watch me now. You make believe your fantasies, you make me want to hurl, you make me sick. Imperfection is what I am, a drawing created by man. I stand here, proud and tall. I really love the role I play, wish you could see underneath their fake smiles. One day here, one day there, you’re always trying to run the show. You tell me to do this, to do that, but I’m not perfect, I can’t do it all. But don’t get me wrong, I may be imperfect, but I’m one step closer to perfection then you. Something is creeping inside, something has got to change. Imperfect is me.

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