To be content with oneself is so rare

It's more accepted to hate

Rather than love 

The soul one carries

And the body which encases it.


Flaws are burnished in the fires of self-deprecation

While strengths are glossed over

Acknowledged once, then left to rot.


My mother once told me

That outer beauty isn't important

That personality and intelligence are what matter

But when I badly burned my forearm on the oven door

She became nauseous at the sight

And begged me to smother the scar in lotion


Because inner beauty isn't enough for this world

And oftentimes, outer beauty isn't either.


And no one is ever happy with who they are, not completely.


The perception of perfection is corrupted and deluded

Because perfection is an illusion not to be attained.

We humans are imperfect

In the most perfect way

But to accept this is to accept defeat.


The pursuit of perfection is what drives Man to madness

And the strife for beauty is what leads to great success

For it is not the end results that matter

But the lessons learned in the journey.


Humans are deeply flawed

And we know this all too well

But what I desperately wish to change

Is the idea that being flawed

Is a bad thing.


We are arrogant and cruel, and we know not when to hold ourselves back

But we are only human

And the sooner we accept

Our flaws

Our mistakes

Our guilty pleasures

Our regrets

Our misconceptions

Our delusions

Our faults


The sooner we can begin to live.


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