You look at my imperfect body with contempt
Clinging to the hidden knowledge of how it once was.
You find fault in every blemish upon my white skin
And under glaring lights of artificialness
You take no pains in pointing them out.
You look at my eyes and call them beautiful
You stand before me in all your superior nakedness
Failing to see beyond and within.
1 comment:
Hmm I was going to write a poem in response. But I don't want to tarnish your greatness, instead I'll point out I think you're imperfect.
But that is why you're so much better than anyone who would be perfect.
P.s. "superior nakedness" there's something about that phrase that has a ring to it.
Post a Comment