Lovers-Of-ART

From body to soul and in between, They blotch the parchment that is me; I know of worse flaws I have seen, But surely I am flawed. I sometimes lose my temper, Use my mouth before my mind; I ponder things I could do better, And regret them for a time. I can be harsh, I can be blunt, I tend to hide my thoughts; But this is far from what I want: To be in someone's heart. Comparisons are hard to make Since we are all unique. But half the time my words are fake; The real me is a freak. Regardless, These flaws define me, describe me— They make me what I am. In that light, I'm proud to say that I am flawed.