Zoomed in:

 

451 mm and the pimples are volcanoes bursting

     Dried tears run dusty trails down the

          Uneven slope of my unwashed face

     Nose a million miles long and growing

          As you watch, fueled by the little white

               Lies that add up and everybody knows and

451 mm look down, and hold me steady

     Because I stand on nothing; uncertainty clouds the

          Ground I should find my feet but I can't my belly

               Too bloated with self-hatred to see over; I'm exhausted

                    From keeping it all in, sucking it all in, and

          My claims are invalid every answer is wrong every

               Friend is fake and I know nothing, I am nothing

     I cannot, should not, will never be able to--

 

180 mm and my acne is not so bad, only a few spots on my jawline

     My legs appear beneath softly smiling crows' feet

          In fact, I might just need new shoes because

               My old ones are so worn down from standing, their

                    Ground-ed.

     Dreams rise like balloons filled with helium

          High, higher they go and suddenly the sky's the limit-

               I might just be able to reach it--

 

7 mm and the flaws are

     Gone, all the blemishes smoothed

          Over are all the doubts and could nots and now

               I rule this hill, give me the world because

                    Now, now I can take it

     Zoomed out, and my life takes shape

          Millions of little lines, little defects

               Dissapear into one smooth, continuous curve

                    A confident brush stroke of life and love I'm

                         A perfect circle.

               I turn away from the tripod, put down the camera

          With which I scrutinize my every move like I'm an ant

               One of a million just the same, too tiny to make a difference,

          Trying to find my Outstanding but instead accepting the

               Needs Improvement ... ?

     I walk away and I'm not an ant but a peacock and I

          Strut confidently with my imperfections waving resplendent in the air

     Because I know they aren't imperfections and I'm perfect as is-                 but-

 

There on the sidewalk is a small ant, smaller than the rest, struggling to carry a leaf,

     Falling behind the others and I stop and I show him my feathers

          And he isn't an ant anymore but a lion who roars with pride because

 

We are all

Flawless.