Flawed Poem by Montaha Gasir

My friend asked me,
"My bird of a feather,
How are you always,
So well put together? "

I laughed astound.
As I didn't expect,
An inquiry to be,
So utterly direct.

I thought for a moment,
At the puzzling question.
For I couldn't understand,
The intended suggestion.

I'm not a social butterfly.
I'm an awkward mess.
In front of people,
I always do stress.

I spend hours in the morning,
Picking what to wear.
Even though I know,
People don't actually care.

I spend my days,
Stuck in my head.
Thinking of the past,
And the future that I dread.

Everyone around me,
Thinks I'm naturally gifted.
They don't truly realise,
The hours I've committed.

So I said to my friend, after awhile.
Completely peaceful, with a smile.
"I'm not perfect, that's not me.
I'm as flawed as flawed could be."