The Imperfect I 

Certainly I’m not the best 

Nor I am close enough

It is true

I’m an entirety of flaws

Seems a collection of wrongs

Sometimes insensitive, 

Irresponsible, forgetful

I’m even impatient and strict

Oftentimes impulsive, 

selfish and conceited;

Tactless and stubborn too

I’m a pessimist 

I am insecure

So am unduly withdrawn

Distant you called

To the dimmed complexities I’m afraid

So in the sheltered doors I stay

Note me as a coward with a languid heart

I’m unmistakably imperfect

But though I am one badly flawed

I like myself for who I am

Like it even better

For whom I am made by the divine

Do not even try look at me to scrutinize

I need not to subject into your judging eyes

I too shall never impel to anyone

Stay and be at my side

Though it’s pleasing to have someone

Who knows that flaws such these

Cannot fully define

Nor it can penetrate the wholeness of man

It’s such a gift holding a hand

Leaning against the shoulders of one

Whom have unfailingly believe

All of  those are insignificant

And that I am simply me

Deserving of understanding

Worth it of something

Much as I’m the imperfect I