I am a person

I am flawed

I am a blemish

I am human.

My hair is unruly, it doesn’t stay

My hips won’t fit those jeans that way

Not five six, not a dress size two

Still can’t fit a real women's size shoe.

My face is marked, each side not the same

People have trouble just spelling my name

But I’m tired of perfect, I’m tired fake

Even though there’s the envy I can’t seem to shake.

But I know that it’s wrong, and I know I am strong

Because I know that me is who I want to be.

My unruly mane is my mass of angel hair

My hips are the size that only fits me

My petite size shows my innocence

And who cares if my foot is a kid size three.

Each mark on my face is my own beauty mark

My first name is just unique

I’m my own idea of perfect

Not a fake idea of me.