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Imperfectly Perfect

Perfection comes in many forms, scars, height weight, everything! And it's in the eyes of God, that we are at the utmost beauty.
The title of this art piece boggles one's mind sometimes,
How can you be imperfectly perfect?
Well, were we wonderfully made with complex tendencies,
So sometimes we think we have personality and physical feature vacancies,
There is always a piece of us that is to let some of us,
Well, I must say my soul is fully rented out by the Holy Spirit,
And my heart is not for sale because God can't even put a price on it,
So I must say I feel pretty special.

The fact that my perfection is simply perfect,
Because you cannot define it, and confine it because it is too divine,
It is covered by the divinity where the word is every pore on it,
However, knowing I am a human,
Yes, and I am bound to fall,
That makes me imperfectly perfect because I can acknowledge this all.

Are you well lady?
Are you swell?
Yet you, sweet lady, dwell,
For hours in front of the mirror perfectly,
Trying to paint your imperfectionate pimple with your dream matte-cocoa,
Or maybe,
Or maybe its Maybelline,
I don't know the flow because it costs way less to be natural,
So put down the L'Oréal,
Don't get me wrong,
A little eyeliner and mascara has never done me wrong,
Unless I chose that over buying bread and milk for the next morn,
But sweet lady don't make that your all,
Is that all you want people to see,
The makeup and how much it costs to import your weave,
Speak up,
Word out.

Show that your soul needs no evaluation, by the public on how beautiful you are,
God, tell them how you would not use makeup to create a being,
Then we would all have eyelashes brushing the ceiling,
His Canvas was our hearts,
And over that he smoothly brushed our life,
And glazed this masterpiece with a soul,
Now you see, what He sees is simply beauty,
What He sees is art.

Now at the end of the day,
When all the makeup is wiped away,
We feel like our insecurities are exposed,
"Oh no this scar just won't go",
Sweet lady stop spending so much time in the mirror,
Because you are giving the devil so much time and space,
To rail you in and paint on fear.

The title of this art piece boggles one's mind sometimes,
How can you be imperfectly perfect?
Simple,
I just am,
And I thank God for that.
By
Published: 2/6/2012
Bouquets and Brickbats