Perfect?
All I see when I look at myself in the mirror is imperfection:
I'm not pretty -
Far from it,
And I can't see past that.
I tear my gaze away,
Tears stinging at my eyes,
But my self doubt is not only on the surface.
I'm not smart enough;
Funny enough;
Popular enough;
Or good enough for you,
Or for anyone else.
All I see when I look at you is perfection,
Even though it doesn't exist
And I know that you feel far from it.
But you look beautiful to me -
Your floppy, messy hair;
Your kind and caring blue eyes;
Your heart-warming smile,
The smile that can brighten even my darkest of days.
As I look at you,
Flawless in my eyes,
It makes me wonder if anyone thinks that I am perfect.
But how could they,
when my list of imperfections is so long?
