How does one define perfection?
By looking in my eyes,
They don't show a reflection of the viewer but a glimps into my soul.
In the curve of my iris there is a story,
A little girl who moved from house to house,
hopping friends just as frequently.
A little girl who grew up tall, and round,
afraid of interaction, afraid of rejection, but not afraid of being diferent.
A little girl who lost respect for her parents before it even formed,
ignoring their sleeping forms when she returns from school at three in the afternoon.
A little girl who hated attention but craved affection,
always in a constant battle with her emotions.
A little girl who clung too easily, but refused to get attatched,
Clutching anything in her grasp but letting go at the slightest wriggle.
A little girl who told jokes to hide her insecurities,
"Maybe if I'm funny people will like me."
A little girl who hated her body beyond all reason,
constantly dieting but never losing weight.
A little girl jumping habits like hopscotch squares,
moving from nail biting, to hair pulling, to self inflicting wounds.
A little girl who was thrown out by her parents,
they didn't even look back.
A little girl who lost all motivation,
failing classes and dissapointing those around her.
A little girl that attempted suicide but was too afraid to go through with it,
making herself vomit and begging her grandparents not to send her away.
A little girl who pretended to be okay until she was,
taking different medications until her emotions went numb.
A little girl constantly fighting with herself,
thinking horrible thoughts that she knew weren't true yet being unable to erase them.
Alittle girl who depended on her friends,
Scared to be let down, but more scared not to be held up.
A little girl who saw a way out,
deciding to take her future into her own hands.
A little girl who was perfect,
despite what she thought and sometimes still thinks.
My iris will grow and shrink, but the story remains the same.
I define myself as a little girl,
I define myself as perfect.