Cracked To Perfection


What sets me apart,

What makes me differ?

I am a piece of art

One I see staring at me in the mirror.


I see a gem as the canvas,

The artist is unknown,

But the art left behind looks like Atlas,

Forced to carry the world alone.


As I notice my flaws,

I see the stone crack

Beginning to take shape, unconfined by society’s laws.

Each flaw, adds to the beauty, and the piece is on track.


I worry about all the things in my past,

Each one sculpting a new part of the piece,

And I begin to remember of those things I did outlast,

And as I do the cracking starts to cease.


I have accepted those blemishes,

For I see the beauty they have created.

All the cracks have delivered their messages,

That all of them were fated.


Fated to make me accept myself,

To love the errors that I once rejected,

And to leave that hate on a shelf,

In order to leave no part of me neglected.


Accepting this I learned to see

I cannot love just a section

For now the truth is known to me

I am cracked to perfection.


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