I’m perfect, i never say but I think it,
Actually i never think it conciously but I act it.
When I shake my head at the lady that arrived late because I arrived a few minutes ahead,
When I talk about how short her skirt is because mine happens to reach my knees,
When I go about complaining about the authorities because I think I know what’s better,
I don’t say it but I act like I’m perfect, and I am, Perfect at finding faults.
A friend said to me years back, “those that criticise often can’t take criticism“, how true,
Because while I’m great at spotting faults, i fail to see my leopard skin
I’m quick to explain why my faults are not faults at all, but intricate parts of my uniqueness.
I never say it, but I’m perfect.
When I feel the world would be a better place if more people thought like me, spoke like me and acted same, i do not say it, but I believe that I’m better than most.
If only he’d keep to time, if only she’d speak less or more, if only he’d be a little more tidy, if only she’d be a little more decent or less conservative, if only he’d be more holy, if only they’d be less corrupt…. I see the world through colored lenses, and I’m the standard, anything that doesnt fit my mould is either not good enough or too good to be true.
If only I’d be less perfect!
If only I’d be less perfect I’d see how spotted I am, i won’t explain away my flaws, I’d work on them,
I’d understand that sometimes people aren’t bad or good, they are just different,
I’d know that I can never be the standard because that would be setting the bar too low.
I’d realise that the apostrophe and space need to leave the title of this post, it should read IMPERFECT.
We are all flawed, we all need grace. We all need Jesus. He’s the only one with the right to say I AM PERFECT.