Poems

Beauty in flaw

An average of 77%
Of the world's women
Don't believe they are beautiful

I would say that it doesn't matter
What's on the outside
Only the in
But then you'd call me a
Hypocrite

It's not how I look
Mostly
It's just I have
Too many
Scars

Not all were intended

Ever sense I can remember
My idea of strong
Was showing it
Through action
And having a few
War scars

Oil in between
Your finger nail
And stain streaks across
Your cheek

A mechanic

I was fascinated with
Machines
And the people who work
With them

They are beautifully
Strong
And have the proof
With stains

I wanted to be one
But wasn't strong enough

As they
Twist and turn to
Crate something new

My fragile arms
Couldn't even do it without help
Or flaw

Fists raise up high
Flying with speed
Blocking and attacking
With brute
Force

TaeKwonDoe
Is said to be the strongest
And most useful
In MMA

I made it to black belt
In three years
But when I spared
I always backed away
In fear of mare scars

But when I hit
I hit hard
Pouring every ounce

Of my frustration
And anger
And stress
Into my kicks and punches

But they weren't as beautiful
And graceful
As the were suppose to be

They were sloppy
Incorrect

I stopped for moving forward
But never told anyone
It was my last day

I regret leaving my family

School
Had it's own beauty
Brains over bronze

But it seems like I
Was the only Asian
Struggling in math

Never failing in their eyes
But every B I got
Pained me

The mind is a beautiful
Form
In which shows
Who you are
Through your work

I never accomplished anything

No matter what you put
In front of me
I was never
Right

I was never beautiful
Pretty
Or even close

I was always flawed
Incomplete
Fragile
Or stupid

Dancing failed
Because I couldn't move
To Shakira
So apparently hips do lie
Or mine did

Seems like every Mexican
Was swaying to the rhythm
Every Mexican but me

Even the white girls
Who were twigs
That couldn't bend
Unless they broke
Had truth

Sketching
Or drawing
Was even worse

My lines were zig zagged
And my art
Wasn't fully mine
Or wasn't intended

Singing
I joined choir
And worship team
Both accepted
But something I feel like it was
Because they had to

My voice was never
On pitch
I was always chosen last
Or not at all

They had favorites
And it was never me

Never good enough
To be beautiful

Always second rated

So my self evaluation
Was set not by me
But by what everyone else
Saw as
Flaw

And I was a perfect match