There is no such thing.
Everyone has them no matter how much they try to hide.
Those little imperfections, mistakes, and problems.
But that’s what makes a person.
Not the makeup that only reaches skin deep.
Not the clothes that can only cover so much.
Not the fake friends that fuel your delusions.
My mind makes me unique.
It can find a derivative,
While thinking of a reason to explain the noise outside my door.
It could be real, it could be fake.
It could be a monster creeping around in the dark.
My personality makes me different.
At first glance, I am shy and quiet,
But I am really a goof.
I takes my studies seriously,
But I always have time for a friend.
I am loyal and rather have five good friends,
Then dozens of fakes.
I keep my anger inside, unless you already know the cause.
People can tell me to change.
That I have to be smart, but not funny.
I need to be serious, but not illogical.
That I need to concentrate, but not daydream.
I should study more and give up writing or painting.
Well, they can stuff it.
I may space out while talking
Or go off tangent.
I may be nerdy and talk for hours about my favorite book.
I may even be overzealous about my grades
Or a perfectionist in my artwork.
But that’s just who I am.
You may not like it,
Others may criticize,
The masses may try to change me,
But it will make no difference.
My imperfections, my mistakes, my problems,
Make me Flawless.
A word of advice?