Epitome of human souls

Impatience, jealousy, and insecurity consume me.

My actions walk in one direction but my intentions go in another. 

Sometimes all I can do is scream, even if on the inside.

Inadequate, incomplete, they both hide my name tag. 

Noone can see past those flaws to know what my name is.

Humanity is tainted; I am supposed to need improvement.

I am the face of a work in progress, an epitome of true human soul, therefore, I am flawless.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741