by Tazkia Dokrat aged 9

Is it the way I walk
Or how I talk,
How I look
Or what’s in my notebook?
On this planet
Leaks sadness in a blanket
We’re always judged
Or even nudged
Is it the clothes I wear
How I style my hair
Are my teeth not straight?
Sure, I’m no saint
D’you think it’s low self-esteem
Or will I never be supreme?
Am I not skinny enough
As fat as a cream puff
Is it ‘cos I bite my nails?
All these honest tales
I’m not yet done
I’m not even fun
I look into the mirror
But there’s no glimmer
Just me staring back
Is it beauty I lack?
Are my feet too long
Were they shaped wrong
Am I just a nerd?
Really, it’s inferred
Why couldn’t God give me the gift
The gift to give my reputation a lift
Perfection’s what I need
So I can transform from this weed
Sometimes I wonder
Then after I ponder
Is anyone perfect?
Well yes, it’s beauty they collect
God made me
Shaped me
Formed me
Into this human I am
But really I have my own glam
Everyone Is perfect
That’s why you should never neglect
Everyone’s perfect just as they are.
So, am I perfect, well yes I am.

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