All your perfect imperfections
There are times when I feel ugly,
not good enough,
but these times are punctuated with exclamation points of happiness,
better than good enough,
maybe too good,
What makes me flawless?
My mom insists that it was from her side of the family
and that marrying a devil was a good sacrifice for creating an angel.
Am I an angel?
But I am flawless.
I just am.
I wasn't made that way,
I didn't wake up that way,
I make myself that way.
"Flawless" means without flaws,
but I have many.
How does that work?
I am flawless
because of my flaws.
I am flawless because when my pieces fall apart and scatter over the ground,
I pick them back up again.
I gather my flaws together and I keep moving,
and if I drop some pieces along the way,
I might go pick them up, if it means something to me,
but I know when to leave things behind too.
I am flawless in the way that I embrace my flaws.
I am perfect because I am imperfect.
I am a paradox-
a flawless paradox.
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