My crazy little imperfect perfections

Bumping into glass doors and brick walls, I am clumsy all the time.

Attempting to perfect a verse, while talking I try to rhyme.

With hands a little too small and feet a little too big,

I topple and still behave as if I pulled off a perfect jig.

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Teeth a disaster, wrestling one on top of the other

But a beautiful smile, same as my mother.

And when I smile, one of my cheeks gets a slight dimple,

More often than not, it is overpowered and obscured by a pimple.

Hair just fly around everywhere as if they are fighter planes,

I have tried to tame them, but they seem to use their own brains.

I make plans and then see them crash right in front of my eyes,

But I am still self obsessed, my favourite, it’s all true; no lies.

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I don’t understand the real world, I weave my own fairytale.

As if I’m a pretty princess even though my skin is both a little dark and pale.

My nails aren’t always manicured, like most girls.

And I like studs and rivets, when others ask for diamonds and pearls.

When women my age would pick up heels and little black dresses,

I love to get into a tee, boxer shorts and obviously my messy tresses.

I would ditch the lipstick, the kohl and even the lotion,

Because I just don’t care, I’m high on love, my favourite potion.

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Most girls would exercise and starve themselves to death,

Whereas, I just love cheese and chocolate, oh and definitely my bed.

People walk up to me and say that I’m not up to the mark,

I’m amused of the fact that they think I care about their remark.

My heart is that of gold despite a million deficiencies and my flawed body dimensions,

Amidst animals, I’m still a compassionate human and I love all my crazy little imperfect perfections.

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