My dear, you are so beautiful,
Though you say you aren't.
You believe you have too many flaws.
You believe that you're far from perfect.
That's not how I see things.
All of your imperfections,
They make you perfect in my eyes;
I see them all,
And I love every bit of it.
Now, why would you want to be an empty sheet?
Everything on you,
They're signs that you've lived life,
And fought battles,
Like the pink scars on your thighs,
Gained when you were bullied as a teen,
Like the stretch marks on your belly and sides,
Achieved when you were swollen with a child,
Like the rough skin on your hands and elbows,
Gotten from working hard for a living,
Like the small red spots on your face,
Remaining from your teenage acne,
Like the little scratches on your knees,
Obtained from falling from your bicycle,
And like the wrinkles that show when you smile,
Received from living life this long.
I love you for you.
You aren't a blank canvas,
But a beautiful masterpiece.
YOU ARE READING
Little Writings From A Little Person
PoetryThis is a collection of little writings and poems that I've written. They range in any subject possible. I just write whenever I'm bored, so I've decided to share them with people other than my close friends. I hope you like them. ❤
