Kenn's Book Of Poems

My Imperfections are Part of me.

I look into a mirror and what do I see?
I see a teen of worry, caring for more than just me.
My insights upon myself are quite strong,
But it's melancholy enough to become a forlorn song.

I bite my nails when I'm nervous,
or twirl my hair as I speak.
My voice can be overly quiet,
and I'm typically very weak.

My hair is a gross dirty shade of blonde,
And my eyes look stormed over.
No matter how much I try, the bags are never gone,
but my glasses can help become a cover.

I develop a lisp if I get too anxious,
I get insecure about my weight.
I can never bring myself to be audacious,
So I stay put, away from the chase.

I like more than one gender, so what?
I don't have a pronoun as well.
At least I'm not dressing like a slut,
But I would pay more attention if I fell.

Sure, I'm easily defined as a klutz,
my leg immobilizer defines that sharply.
People telling me about the future drives me nuts,
as I like to sit back and take life slowly.

I strain myself away from everyone if I get down,
But I'll eventually pull 'em back in.
I care about others more than myself,
and that draws my mental composure thin.

I can't hear as well as the other kids,
so I'm forced to wear a pair of hearing aids.
I can't keep up with the kids 'cause of muscular dystrophy,
But I try my best without the need for a maid.

The things I see wrong could go on forever,
but I won't keep you that long.
Just remind yourself the next time we meet,
My imperfections are a part of me.