My perfection is my absolute truth, through the scars and the pain of my youth. The world In which I lived was was not clear skies of blue, but nontheless the only one that I knew. Facing my demons on the iside and those that looked me in the eye and laughed at my misery. The scars I carry, both on my skin and on my soul, are reminders of the days of old. Remains of my failures and monuments to my success. The harsh words can't sting, and the bully can't swing, I wear my scars as a testament to my success against the odds in a cruel world. My scars are my faults and my pain of a time now lost. A beacon of my will to carry on.My faults made me who i am today, and make me proud to say, that my flaws made me flawless in every way.