Regina Puckett
All I see in the mirror are my flaws
My anger, my despair, my sheathed claws
The nagging doubts that hang the bars on my cage
And the many hurts which fuels my inner rage
This imperfect reflection taunts me every day
So maybe it will be better if I turn and walk away
I’ll try to pretend I’m not really this blemished
I’m just a work of wonderful art left unfinished