I love my perfection to be imperfect ....

I love that my legs, and arms are not equal.

I admire my ability to show my weakness.

To wear my emotions on my sleeve.

I am pleased that I am not always happy.

Because if I was, how would I feel alive?

I love my nappy roots, because with straight ends there is no adventure.

My skin may not be flawless but each curve and tone makes me unique.

My vision may not be 20/20 but it makes me feel stronger because I can still see what real.

I love my mixed emotions, they give me my words and song.

Though my voice isn't what you would call beautiful, each melody I bleed makes me whole.

The ability to wiggle my toes, and and twinkle my eyes.

Blink and a wink to let go of my cries.

Cries that then make my mind scream, IM ALIVE!!

I may not be beautiful to you.

But my mirror digs deeper then my skin.

My mind, my soul, and intellect makes me divine.

Makes my body and my sensations intertwine.

My imperfection makes me weak, quite speechless.

Sexy is my mind, beauty is my soul.

I admire the ability to love my wrongs and turn them right.