I tried so hard to be the person you want me to. I try to be perfect. But I'm not, don't you see that?
I have scars,
I have stretch marks,
I have fat,
I have thighs that touch,
I have natural curly hair that is a horrid mess.
But I'm learning to love myself. Learning to embrace my flaws as they are who I am. Don't you see that? You can't pick me apart, shun me when I'm not your view of perfection.
Because underneath all that make up you are wearing, the slight scent of burnt on your hair from straightening or curling it, the food you refuse yourself, there is a girl who has flaws. Who is imperfect.
Nobody is perfect, don't you see that?
Don't judge me just because I embrace who I am. I do not hide it. Because I've realized, I've accepted that I am human. I am flawed. I am imperfect. Aren't we all?
YOU ARE READING
I tried
PoetryLife is a series of snapshots. Your memories are the photos, stored away. You often bring out the old, thick photo album and skim through the times you had. What do your photos look like? Are they filled with sunshine and laughter? Are they filled...
