Do you think that when we say,
God, why did you make me this way?
He looks at all us with all our doubt
And says, "What are you talking about? "
We look into the mirror and frown
Oh, why must my eyes be boring brown?
And why isn't my tummy flat?
I'm such a pain to look at.
But no, says God.
Instead, you should be awed.
For when I made you, little pea
I made you look like me.
And you are perfect in my sight
Your soul made clean; it sparkles white
Beautiful beyond compare
So don't doubt yourself, don't you even dare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem