What defines a flaw?

Is it a crack, a break, some inherent defect that causes pain?

Or is it something picked up along the way?


See, I believe that there is an Awesome God who designs us all,

Takes up dust, the dirt of the ground, the skin of the Earth, and shapes it into a sculpture of perfection, his own image, before bringing it into existence, giving it the breathe of life.

I am created in the image of perfection, designed by the architect of amazing, the creator of galaxies and the inspiration of creativity.

I am unique, but not in that way, for everyone is made in the image of greatness, of perfection, of beauty. In that image, there isn't anything inherently wrong, simply wounds from the battles that rage on, constantly creating a chaos of pain here on this Earth.

See I don't have a single flaw, yet I am still broken through and through.

As I have walked down the path of this life I've been dirtied and bruised, bloodied and stranded on the side with open wounds, lying there bleeding out every unique idea that makes me an anomaly.

I've been left in Saharas of loneliness, broken by words and left alone until all hope dried, until I was ready to end my own life. 

I got to the point that I stood in my desert life, gun to my head crying out to the empty, cosmic explosion-resultant galaxy of nothing, when a voice changed the outlook on this life.

He sent rain to my desert to drown out the pain and dry up the residing hate, he gave me purpose, something to aim for.


See, I was shattered in the 4th and 5th grades, told that I was overweight, among so many other things.

My confidence was a funhouse of distorted self image, I was told that I should hate myself for not being good enough, not being worthy, not conforming to society's messed up mind of Greek god-like perfection. Identities achieved only in mythology.

So out of this self-shattering hate, I ended up putting all of my faith in women, that somehow they could solve this pain.


But that never saved my from my own blade.


Eventually, He came and saved me from the broken record repeat of "fat-fat-fatty."

He allowed me to realize that we are all created perfectly, and purposed.

We are not white noise atoms, condensed in randomness, shocked into the beat of the dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum rhythm of our heart.

We all march to the same thumping heartbeat, yet we all stand unique.

Different specialties, different instruments playing Diversity's beautiful symphony.

Different ways to see the same thing, different strings that hold our individual fate.


If it isn't crystal, it should be clear I'm classified as a Jesus Freak.

But that doesn't meant I'm incorrect or illogical when I argue that humanity isn't flawed inherently, but scarred beautifully. 

Not inherently broken, but post-creation we are wounded by fragmented humans, shattered by family or bullies, primed by society, and set off by some innocent bystander who just said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

And that bystander becomes some little asteroid belt of fragmented memories, broken apart by exploding stars, waiting for each broken mirror, every broken picture of who he once was to be overcome by gravity, when finally the healing of his-own self image can be started.

But that never happens.

So instead we become the next fragmented human being, walking around like an atom bomb, just waiting for some reason to supernova and start this whole process all over again.


We all are diamonds, individually unique and of perfect quality, unheard of clarity, and infinite beauty.

The thing is we start off the way all diamonds do, as a lump of coal, dirtied and old, worthless to most but explosive feul for society.

However, those who reside calm and confident as they walk through the fires, stand strong and defiant under infinite pressure from this world, walk out the other side as diamonds.


This world claims we value individuality, yet the populace defines some identity of perfection that each and every one of us is entirely expected to confrom to. 

But this ideal is simply some regurgitated slop of convoluted faults and disillusioned flaws.

It's the blackness of a void, a vacuum of personality, an inception state of reality that is faked, it is the emptiness of space. 

The masses of superficiality, regarding lefitimate humanity as a virus worthy of destruction.

But those few diamonds, the few resilient fighters, the few shining examples of perfection remain to light up the sky like the stars in the midnight sky. 


So the next time that you are pressured into conforming, stay the course and remember that you are made in the likeness of perfection. 

You are created for a reason, given purpose that no one else could imagine besides you.

When you are pressured to conform, to surrender, to reside in the comfort of average life, of similatiry, of make-believe uniqueness, realize that you are flawless, perfect, scarred yet sealed into the immortality of amazing. 

No matter what they make you believe, remember that there could never be a more beautiful, more perfect, or more amazing you; because you are the only snowflake God created that way.


That alone defines perfect, staying true to who you are, because originally, inherently, purposefully, you were created perfect; flawless.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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