I see you daily
and I've come to realize
that nothing of you is flawed.

These past years
I have been privileged
to see you:
receive letters from division I athletics
blossom from the flower of puberty
and live in a gorgeous home.

But as I broke through your flawless facade,
I saw hurt and vulnerability,
I no longer saw perfection.

Your mother- lost to cancer,
your father- an angry man,
your siblings- hateful.

I have been puzzled
to see you:
deny admissions to division I schools
let your hair grow scraggly, your face become oily
and your house be foreclosed.

You are not what I thought you were.
You are like me
you are weak
hurt
abandoned.

You, like me, are not perfect.