I am not perfect,
Nor do I claim to be.
I only aim to be,
The real me that I’d like to see.
So while you stand on your matchbox pedestal
Turning up your nose
At all my faults and flaws and shortcomings
And all that you suppose
Is the reality of my life
And the reason for my distance
From you and your perfect everything
And my not wanting your assistance
To carbon copy the essence of
Your tiny, made-up world
Where the bubble seems to only fit
The persons that you can twirl
Around your scrawny little finger
With your compliments, oh so coy
Then throwing snide remarks about
At the cost of someone else’s joy
No thank you, I am fine right here
On my little patch of green
Working hard to help it bloom and blossom
Into the most beautiful scene
That will encourage some other poor longing soul
Who you’ve held tight in your grasp
To see the true sadness behind your happy façade
And get to work on their own damn grass!
So they can be truly happy
And let go of misery and dread
And giving up thinking the worst of themselves
And see their best potential instead
So I will stay here in my little corner
Productive as I can be
For while you stand there judging away
I’ll simply working on me.
With the Lord, my best friend
And I, working hand in hand
To make me His divine instrument
Oh! Doesn’t that sound grand?
For I know I am not perfect
Nor do I claim to be
And the only thing I aim to be
Is the best me that I can possibly be.