It is our flaws that makes us human,
It is our humanity that marks our imperfection,
Our imperfection makes us unique,
Our uniqueness is our flaw,
Because we despise those who are different,
We resent the better ones,
Those who stand above us,
The ones who are stronger,
They who do not feel the pain we feel,
He who makes us feel human,
Makes us feel flawed,
But i have come to realize,
As these blurred images clear,
I too am human,
and i too, am flawed,
I do not see myself as the higher,
I refuse to see myself as the better,
Because my reality,
My perfection,
is knowing that I am weaker,
that I am the latter,
the reprobate,
Rejoice, You may rejoice,
I urge you,
For now you know,
that I am as you are,
I am not strong, not better,
not higher, not greater,
I am the latter,
I am the weaker,
Rejoice, please rejoice,
For your pain is not your own,
For I once bled as you do now,
And I am weaker,
for fear to be cut,
I let my hands go,
I despise the blood.
I am the weaker,
I need you to know.
My imperfection craves the ache,
But my reality yearns this peace.
I am the weaker,
Because I hide behind these doors.
And it pains me to see,
That what lies beyond them,
is the very thing I refuse to feel again.
