When I look into myself
I try to find perfection;
Knowing the impossibility of it.

And, I wonder why my first instinct
Is to want to feel better than someone else,
When, in fact, I’m on the lowest scale of humanity.

What I would like to see inside myself
Is someone who doesn’t judge or complain;
Just someone grateful instead of someone who grumbles.

I look at people, imperfect, damaged
Who never complain, but are always thankful for life;
And I, with no seemingly damaged or missing parts
Look toward them with envy.
Children, with frail bodies, weak hearts, and no hair;
With every reason and right to complain -
Only smile and laugh, even knowing their time is limited.
And I sit here thinking I have the right to feel bad.
By: Linda Duncan
© 6/15/2000