I'm the imperfect.
The real form of the word.
Nothing’s right.
All alone.
No where to go.
No arms to hide in.
They look at me.
I am ashamed.
They see me.
All my faults.
So many faults.
No where to hide.
Their stare penetrates everywhere.
No escaping their gaze.
The harshness goes strait to every part of me.
They see me.
I am imperfect.
