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Dear Instagram, I'm sorry
for not having a perfect body,
for not being a little dolly,
or just someone else's copy.

Dear Instagram, I'm sorry
for not being always happy,
for just being the contrary
of what society had told me.

For not having a small waist
or big ***, like Kim K-West,
sorry for being depressed,
always thinking I'm a mess.

Seems like everyone is perfect
and it's me who isn't worth it,
so I'm seeking any defects.
They say: "Ladies don't show feelings..."

I'm not pretty like a model,
and I'm far from being noble,
don't prefer expensive bottles,
Friday nights I'm staying sober.

I don't travel 'round the planet,
don't possess a money magnet,
sometimes I am full of panic
(I was told I shouldn't say that).

I don't think I'll ever be
someone you expect to see,
I am just a human being
who was, like wind,
born to be free...
I've quitted IG more than a year ago because I felt that it was harmful to my mental health. I'm not sorry for doing that)
Lyn-Purcell Jun 20
Flawed by creation
I am very much human
Please world, accept it
My mind is a riot...
So much I'm thinking about...
So much to make sense of...
I hope the world can be accepting of that fact that we're human and that no one is perfect
Let's embrace it...
Much love
Lyn 💜
Jace Joseph Jun 2
Just in how our minds think,
all so confusing for little reason.

Seems to always bring us brink,
I hear you go to blame the season.

But I think our minds are flawed,
for why we're all cable of such evil.

People themselves are just odd,
from humanity's primeval.
Humanity has been so cruel.
All I want is peace and happiness.
Poetic T May 17
If we were the mirror of our creation
                and not made in perfect silhouettes.

Then we aren't the creation of perfection,
                           as were flawed beyond our sell by date.

Then that which made us is imperfect in its design.
                  So not omnipotent,
  flawed in its own blueprint.

And so just another pebble in
A dry pond where wishes die.
Poetic T May 17
For he hurled  the stone,
                            casting it with anger...

And so the first sin was sewn..
                   For the wrath of another showed
that we were the picture of god,

If we were imperfect,
                then our creation was flawed
beyond the reflection of our birth.

The stone was never perfect but
                    flawed when created.
Maurice May 12
your absence has been revealing
the reach of your arms; exposed
my thoughts,
feelings and actions
forever altered from our encounter

I have learned from our departure
you were not the flaw
I was flawed before we met
and now understand that you were my voice
but I haven't spoken since
Part 2 of 3
KM Hanslik May 3
I'm sitting at a stop sign with my tongue tied & my brain fried,
oozy sunny-side-up on the pavement
they tell me "look at the bright side" as if the sun could talk,
but no, I'm shooting blanks
on a half-tank of chemical reuptake;
here's a mouthful of soap, keep your insides clean

stuff a drawer with hope for the rainy days;
'cause we worship the heat like we're trying to get cancer,
I'll spill from my lips what I don't want to eat,
and worship every dancer for a flaw that knows them better;
insert needles into inked-up skin, then burn out every letter,

we'll burn that bridge when we get there,
make it a public monument
picking pennies out of muddy boot-prints,
but **** it, if the shoe fits
keep your luck in a jar so it can't run out like your bank account,
resuscitate me in a desert so I can get used to the drought;

& we've all got a cutscene we'd rather not talk about
so here's the uncensored take,
after I spoon-feed you the low-stakes version
(try not to choke)
this is every mistake on a half-tank of reuptake
try to fill up your plate while your bank goes for broke;

take it up a notch and watch me free-fall down the ropes
while you climb the ladder with 5 dead bodies and a *** tape,
call it a playdate with fate
& see how long the relapse takes
after your firewall fills with smoke.
If you could accept that perfection is flawed,
Would you love me?
Empire Mar 23
I don’t have friends
I have people who’ve
But friends?
Apparently I’m not worthy
I’m fundamentally flawed
Desperate to feel cared about
Yet repulsive to those who’d care
I used to think I was flawless, truth is I am less than perfect.
I can't believe how awful I am, but I mean, what do you expect?
I am less than perfect, that much is true, but I can't help but wonder
What does perfection physically look like? Each of these ideas I plunder.

I don't know. I'm not sure about anything anymore. Haven't a clue.
Everywhere I look, it's just multiple copies of the darkest shade of blue.
Everyone stares at me, their soulless eyes, a dead, glazed look.
So I try to keep my head down, hiding behind my many notebooks.

Perfect. Why even have a word for something that doesn't exist?
It's a useless word, something I try to avoid but it always persists.
Sometimes I think about if I were perfect. What would I look like? Act?
Then I try to push the many thoughts away, they're way too abstract.

What does it mean to be perfect? It means to not have ANY flaws.
That's all I'll ever hear, "Be more perfect, you'll gain some applause!"
I hate that I have live with this idea of perfection, it's a "utopia", so dumb.
So I have to change myself to be the person that people want me to become.
I used to think I was perfect. I was not and am not.
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