Why tell me I am default and not enough?
Why explain how inept I am to speak or be heard?
Why allow me to look in the mirror for hours, bringing to my knowledge every defect in my form?
Why show me how imperfect my form is and unfit for attention?
Why tell me I am weak, lacking, and unfit?
Why tell me “they lie”, when sweet words are uttered to lift my soul?
Why explain how better it is to dart to the toilet and cry,
than take his outstretched hand to dance in my not styleworthy clothes?
Why mark the bathroom as my space in a gathering with friends?
Why tell me to sleep in, and not go to that
dinner I was invited to?
Why give me reasons to wear foundation
just to buy a loaf of bread downstairs because I look ugly?
Why tell me not to bother, because I cannot win?
Why tell me to keep all my ideas to myself, because no one would listen?
Why tell me “don’t bother trying”, because “you can’t keep up”?
Why tell me I didn’t make it past the first stage because nothing works out for me?
Why give me 10million reasons not to try again, because it will still end in tears?
Why tell me to dance and sway to the music of failure, because success is way too high up for my being?
I am flawed, that I know.
So please, let me find peace with my imperfections.