Imperfect
From the day I was born media was not on my side.
Skinny white women everywhere my little eyes could see.
The barbies were not like me and I thought at the time,
"Who cares?"
Now I am 10 and I realize something,
Why am I not like the girl in the magazines?
Why is my hair so curly and not straight?
Why is my skin so tan when hers is white?
Why can't I be as tall as her?
Why are my cheeks so chubby?
Why am I so fat?
Why am I not her?
Now I am 17 and I am confident
I love the long curly hair that my father gave me,
I love the dark skin my mother gave me.
I love the moles and birthmarks on my skin.
I hate the fat on my stomach but love the curves it gives me.
I am confident.
I am me and I cannot change that,
No matter how much I can resent it.
And I won't let the hate in anymore.
I am full of flaws but actually
I am flawless.