There are things that you wish to alter,
There are things that you define.
Attempt to change, and you will surely falter,
But acceptance leads to the sublime.
For a perfect person to me, you see,
Is one filled with imperfection.
The best is something they will never be,
And to excellence they are an insurrection.
Plastic surgery makes me sick,
Love the body God gave you.
If we were meant to choose and pick,
What - if anything - is true?
Be proud of yourself,
with all your pimples and moles,
And every other piece of you,
beautiful and whole.
Do not be a fool,
Simply accept your true self.
Your body is a wondrous tool,
Not dishonestly-earned pelf.
Who cares what other people think,
Who cares what they desire?
Bend to their whims, and you shall sink,
Is such to which you aspire?
2 comments:
This is a wonderful poem. So true.
Why do people strive for something that does not exist?
Beautifully written. Self-love - first and foremost. "Other-love" can only come after self-love is secure. We can't share what we don't already have.
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