What does it mean to be perfect?

Is such an ideal pursuit worth coveting?

Is being without blemish the answer to our wishes?

I use to share those sentiments when I was younger,

but I realize now that my flaws make up a huge part of me,

and rather I appreciate them

because it makes me realize I’m only human,

and being imperfect allows us to make mistakes and to learn from them.

Categories: My thoughts, Poetry

Tags: Poetry, writing