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.