"No I'm not"

She answered.

"My forehead's too wide,

My eyes too far apart.

I don't exactly look very smart.

I mean I am. Maybe. But...

My lips are cracked,

My hair too dry.

My fingers are too short,

They could pass for fries!

I have a nuggets' baby in my belly,

Not thin like other girls,

The ones who have glossy red lips and fascinating curls.

I'm always in sneakers,

I don't grow my nails,

I don't like make up,

And my skins too pale."

He thought to himself,

She's what he really wants.

With all her mess,

Her tolerance to taunts.

It's what makes her unique,

Because her beauty is incomparable,

Unchangeable,

She's imperfectly perfect,

And the way her eyes shine

When offering aid,

Is help in itself,

Because her look speaks volumes,

Of how she treats herself-

People's welfare before hers.

That selfless,

That viciousless,

That... good.

And she was his.

So he told her again,

"But you're perfect."