Flawed – a six letter word,
So often it is heard.
To be flawed is to be imperfect,
To have your blood colored blue rather than scarlet.
We often judge people based on how they look,
But when it comes to self-analysis, we are shook.
Today, I am brave enough to uncover,
My flaws which, around my existence, always hover.
My hair is black, my eyes are brown
With my supposedly pretty face, I could wear a crown.
But Alas! My flaws are not bodily, they are hidden deep within,
Buried under layers and layers of apparently ‘flawless’ skin.
Every morning, when I look in the mirror at me,
You know what I see?
I see a teenage girl with a heart too tender,
Yet, isn’t it the specialty of her gender?
No! It isn’t! It is a curse,
To feel everything so deeply, you are coerced.
You notice every little thing,
Can you even imagine the amount of pain this will bring?
My flaw is that I am a slave to my emotions,
I prudently gauge the consequences of my actions.
My flaw is that I overthink too much,
Seeing someone in agony, I always offer a soothing touch.
I have a heart which refuges the label of ‘handle with care’,
Because the slenderest slip can be too much to bear.
You could do me dirty but still have my love,
Because alas! I am as innocent and naïve as a dove.
I will never get everything I have ever yearned,
This is one thing which after all these years I learned,
No one is this world was born flawless,
Everyone is just their own definitions of a mess.
Despite of the long list of my flaws,
I have people who are willing to love me through it all.
Even with all my flaws, I am a decent human,
And embracing my flaws has helped make me a better woman.