The perfect woman, a myth, a lie

A standard set, so high, so dry

As if perfection exists, in any form

But the sun, the moon, the sea, the sky, they all storm

The sun, so bright, yet scorching hot

The moon, so serene, yet cratered and not

The sea, so vast, yet salty and deep

The sky, so infinite, yet rainy and grey, we weep

We're told to strive, for an unattainable goal

To be perfect, like a statue, cold

But beauty lies, in the imperfections we hold

In the scars, the flaws, the quirks, the stories untold

I don't want perfect, I want real

I want authenticity, I want to feel

The imperfections, the vulnerabilities, the humanity

Not some unattainable standard, imposed by society

So let's redefine, what beauty means

Embrace the imperfections, let our true selves be seen

For the sun, the moon, the sea, the sky

Remind us, that perfection is a lie