Head to toe imperfections
Nearly deaf ears, genetics and loud music
Empty, raccoon eyes,
A spirit long gone
Dry, cracked lips, A poster child for chap-stick
Frizzled, matted hair, never really noticed
Chipped nail polish
On already worn down fingers
Well weathered hands
Too cramped and weak for such a young age
scared belly, from a self-pierced belly-button
scarred legs
always popping ankles, a result of weak muscles
Makes me wonder, why me?
Why can't I be perfect?
why can't I be like them?
But, then again, why would I want to?