The pores on my face
The length of my nose
The dusk in my skin
The lack of proportion on my nails
The spots on my legs
The frizzle in my hair
The burn on my arm
The blocks in my mind
The thoughts in my subconscious
The conflicts with my being
The covers I put
The hyper body language I have
The fun I loose
The crave to be like her
If only, I knew what I am
Her satire becomes a worry for me
Mirror has no answer
Mother gives a false hope
Father shrugs
Brother barely bothers
Sister criticizes
Friends are always unsure
Someone please tell me the definition of perfection?
-Gunit Cour
