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.