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 guilty pleasures
The sooner we can begin to live.