Seasoned Imperfection
A mouth full of imperfect teeth that chomp away lifes troubles
And orbs flecked with daubed shades inhereted from my mother
Heart-shaped lips speaking lies and truths between those imperfect teeth
While the listening ears on each side of my head try to block the words nattered
Oh, that skin of olive, dappled from stress and anxiety
I've resisted wearing a cover to hide my faults
So that eyes yet unveiled and equitable might notice me shine
But such stains and marks in societal fibers nick my well-armored pride
I'm just another girl trapped in a broken mind
I am nothing extraordinary, soaring above untold heights
What you see is who I am, I choose to be Plain Jane
If you can't see the light inside me, what is there left to say?
Except that you've been corrupted by patched-up pieces
Of torn people with no escape from their damned insecurities
Forever leading them to shame
Who invented filters when many live a constant fascade?
Who decided to further the damage
Of humanities stinted courage?
Is it criminal being born as a chipped vase with character
Or must we all be deemed as perfect and acceptable?
May we indulge in being imperfect beings
And join the ranks of seasoned oddities
Who were scorned for crossing predetermined lines of kosher normalcies
May we be cracked artifacts
That weather centuries of blissful torment
And are unphased by elementary qualms of outward appearance
But are cherished because of what is held within