I am not perfect,
Nor have I ever been.
Like a crack in a sidewalk,
Broken. Split.
Years of pressure are shown.
Like pieces of broken glass
Once pretty, still gleaming,
Longing to be put back together..
Like spilled nail polish,
Shining and vibrant,
But displaced, I cannot go back.
Like a flower, petals plucked,
A wonder of color,
Separated from the stem.
Like a silver chain necklace,
Tangled and neglected
Helpless.
Like a poem,
Forever changing,
Erased and rewritten.
And I am like a button,
Loosened from the dress I once clung to,
Soon to be replaced.
I am not perfect,
Nor will I ever be.