• I wrote a list of all my faults today.
    I cut myself little slack,
    and the pile of pages grew and grew
    scrawling front and back.

    I wrote of my laziness,
    my foolish pride,
    the purely physical,
    and the sad feelings that I hide.

    I wrote of my stubbornness,
    my ever constant fear,
    forgetfulness and carelessness,
    and my words so seldom clear.

    As I pored over the pages
    almost I felt despair,
    for who could love a person
    with what was written there?

    I began to feel a monster,
    something vile and weak,
    and drowning in that darkness,
    the world looked rather bleak.

    Then I took a moment.
    Is it really all that bad?
    I mean now at least you know
    all the faults you have.

    I laughed a little softly,
    feeling silly and ashamed,
    for we are none of us alone
    and we are none of us the same.

    This world is full of people,
    who I may never meet,
    full of faults and dreams,
    passing faces on the street.

    So in conclusion I must say
    that I'll readily confess
    that I'm riddled with mistakes,
    and sometimes I am a mess.

    But each day as I face
    the brilliant morning light,
    I'll still decide to love me
    despite each fault I write.