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one day i shall make a book and i hope this poem is in it:
I am Who I am
i cant be
who im not
so youll be pleased
with what i am

i am not tall
nor skinny or tan
this is something
most misunderstand

looks to me
i could careless
its whats on the inside
that makes you a mess

the outsides a mask
most cant see through
others pry and pray
but forever itll stay!

the imperfections, it hides
will always remain
much like a fine wine stain
on the carpet so new

i am very far from perfect
and hope forever it stays that way
ill shoot myself with a gun
if i ever become perfect
that one unfateful day