All of my life I've been told I need to be perfect,
but who says what perfect is?
As I sit here on the bathroom floor,
I can count all of the zits on my face,
all of the black-heads, white-heads, scabs, scars, and craters.
These are my perfections.
Most people say that these blemishes are ugly,
that I should get rid of my facial imperfections,
but they don't realize that these make me perfect.
Because nobody can be perfect without imperfections.
Wanting to be perfect makes a person imperfect.
Since I am imperfect and can accept it,
I can truly say that I am perfect,
but what makes me different from others?
I don't care about my perfection.