Someone once asked me about my stretch marks, Ohh, I replied.
Are you referring to the sun kissed rays that relax on my outer spine?

Then she remarked, Well what about the rolls on the sides of your belly?
I laughed and said, that’s easy, that is a storage for love and peanut butter and jelly.

Confused she questioned why your hair is oh, so wild and dry?
I pondered and replied, simply because I’m afraid my thoughts might evaporate in the sky.

Thoroughly frustrated she shouted well why you laugh and smile through that overbite?
I calmly answered, you see I love who I am and I can do as I like.

I informed her, my imperfections are my perfections, uniquely designed to me.
If I let them get in the way they’ll only cause low self esteem.

In our search for perfections we find nothing but faults,
So my imperfections are perfect because they’re me by default.

I can rant and rave about how odd I look
Or rather love who I’ve become and express myself in lyrical hooks.

My imperfections are perfect they’re me by default,
So please stop worrying about me and perfect your own thought.