Except them
There are some perfect people in the world
Else what other right or qualification do they have to judge us
Rebuke us
The perfect humans
The ideal
The holy ones
We
Perfect in our imperfection
Dirty and stained
Scared, bruised and scabbed and stabbed
by our experiences and regrets
Mistakes and mishaps
Are we
We cloak ourselves with pride with them
Embracing and accepting who we are
And what we've done
Owning our shit
Even though they may haunt us
That they may not be used to taunt us
As there is no use crying over spilled milk
Believing hoping grasping on to the belief
That our mistakes don't define us
That they only develop and make us stronger
Showing off our scars and sharing our tales
Evidence that we are really living
Strong and proud, why?
Nobody's Perfect...
