That’s what they want me to be

And that’s what I want to see

When I look in the mirror

But I don’t see perfect,

All I see is – me.

What I should see is pretty

Better still, beautiful,

I should read clever

‘Cos smart is forever.

I should see kinda funny

Lighthearted, bubbly

But all I see is – ugly.

And as much as I know

Figures are unimportant

My figure is my foe

And the numbers on the scale

However irrelevant

Weigh a ton and turn me pale.

Every day I look and pick

At what is wrong,

And I forget to stick

With what makes me unique,

What makes me strong.

My mind, unlike my looks,

Will never age, and will remember

The many lessons and books

I ever loved and read,

And I will burn to cinder

The buzzing voices in my head

Which cry


This is my try at a poem about body image and self-consciousness based on my own ongoing experience of feeling imperfect due to the standards society sets for us every single day.

I do plan on writing some proper in-depth posts on this topic, and I think this poem is a good starting point for further writing.



3 thoughts on “Perfect

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