Strong yet weak; brave yet scared,
Silently screaming at the voices in her head....
She is perfectly imperfect.
Sure yet doubtful; confident yet shaky,
Yelling like a child 'I bet you can't make me'....
She is perfectly imperfect.
Easy yet hard; hot yet cold,
Never sure herself which direction to go....
She is perfectly imperfect.
She is a riddle, better yet a mystery, Wearing her battle scars with pride & misery....
She is perfectly imperfect.
She loves with a passion; hates with a fury,
She often asks herself, 'Do they see the real me? '....
She is perfectly imperfect.
She keeps her guard up yet her defenses are down,
She often wears a smile when she really wants to frown....
She is perfectly imperfect.
Perfectly imperfect she will always be,
She can't tell you why, just says 'I'm me'.
She's down for the ride when you're out for the count,
She'll keep cheering you on when others say you've struck out.
Love her, hate her, or something in between....
She's perfectly imperfect, just the way she should be.
Perfectly imperfect.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem