I'm perfectly imperfect, that's the
words you use.
They fit.
The cracks in me trace broken lines,
but they fall just so,
And make me who I am now.

I have flaws and trials, but
Without them, who am I?
Not me.
I am a porcelain doll without the
Mistakes, the Errors, the Cracks,
that make me who I am.

Grace in mistakes
Makes me, me.
Perfectly Imperfect.