Imperfect, Yet Loved
I smile in the mirror,
I see something wrong.
I have pimples,
My hair is damaged,
My mouth is too long.
I say to myself:
You're ugly,
You're not loved.
But I heard much different,
From the God up above.
He told me I'm beautiful,
I'm cherished,
I'm loved.
He told me I was greater,
Than I ever thought that I was.
I decided to appreciate myself a little more,
But God told me no,
I was loved enough to die for.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.