I wrote this poem in honor of my dear friend
To the people who think I’m perfect
No
I’ve got cuts and bruises
Embedded in my soul
From self inflicted pain
So deep that they throb when touched
But they are healing
They are healing
I am strong
I am vulnerable
Two forms of human self expression I embrace
Although sometimes not so well
Perfect is blank
It isn’t excitement, fear, or joy
Perfect is candy
I am a pomegranate
Bursting with deep flavor
And kernels of wisdom
Perfect can seem nice at first
But it will rot you
Turn you against yourself
Perfect isn’t
I am
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