Perfect?
No.
Not me.
I'm not afraid
To admit it.
I'm not like
The others.
I don't prance around
Telling everyone
I'm better than them.
It's not my place.
It never will be.
I accept
Being surpassed by others.
Who am I
To judge people?
Nobody.
Perfect?
Nope.
Not this girl.
I'm not some
Straight A student.
I'm not some
Proper princess either.
I may not be
Perfect.
But at least
I speak the truth,
Even when my
Voice trembles.
I am who I am.
You don't like it?
Not my problem.
I accept
Not being the popular kid.
I accept
Not being liked by everyone.
I can be
The ripest most juciest
Peach in the basket.
But I know
There will always be somone
Who doesn't like peaches.
I can't stop things
Like that.
I have flaws.
That is the way it is.
I may not be
Perfect.
But I try
The very best I can
To be
Me.

Hey there,
little girl,
yes you little girl,
stop crying,
stop lying,
I know you’re trying little girl.
You’re smarter that you think, t
hrow the sharp silver down the sink,
open your eyes, no more good-byes
you can fly, little girl.
You have a purpose
don’t be nervous,
you can work this, little girl.
Don’t let that boy corrupt your head,
with those derogative things he said,
he’s crazy,
don’t be lazy to tell him “NO!”,
little girl.
Don’t let those girls bully you,
crush them like dirt under your shoe,
you can do this,
I can prove it,
listen to me,
little girl.
And if your parents are quarreling,
close your eyes and start to sing.
In a minute it’ll be over
and they’ll be sober, little girl.
And if you’re parents don’t treat you right
and every time you’re in a fight,
count to three, close your eyes and let the music be your guide.
When you can’t sleep at nights and
deep inside you want to cry,
look to me,
I’ll be your friend and put your tiny head to bed.
Who am I?
I am hope, here to free your body, mind and soul.
Let me be your best friend.
Hey, guess what?
You’re beautiful little girl.

The night sky lights up in a colourful array of
blues, reds, yellows, greens.
Spectators ooo and aaah over the display.
Loud bangs makes the little children flinch and squeal in delight.

Making memories with friends and family on these warm nights.
Plenty of food in the coolers and the kitchen to share
Board games on the table and lawn games on the grass to play.
Fireflies twinkling and dancing on the front lawn at twilight.

Campfires red and orange flicker softly in the dark,
warming the coldest of feet those nights.
Stories are passed on from generation to generation,
and silly campfire tunes are sung and danced.

It's summer time; ice pops to be eaten,
laughs to be exclaimed, photos to be taken,
friendships to be formed, and all-nighters to be pulled.
It's summertime, yes, *it's summertime.

Colours of blue, green and pink
float by dancers dressed in
grand outfits of silver cloth.

A girl, not much older then 9,
sits in the back row of the empty auditorium
looking on in awe of what she was seeing.

She closes her eyes and imagines
herself upon the stage being the lead role.
It's always been her dream to dance like them.

A tiny tear prickles in the corner of her eye,
she gives a soft sigh, knowing it's useless to
dream of impossible things.

She turns, careful not to bump
the chairs in the row in front of her.
She grips the wheels in her hands,
and rolls out of the hall.