True perfection has to be imperfect,
I know that sounds foolish but it's true,
Our flaws, our faults, our scar,
That's what makes us who we are,
Stretch marks,
Fist marks,
All the things that make us hard,
The tragedies that almost breaks us,
The grief that almost takes us,
And yet, we will not yield,
We pick up sword,
We pick up our shield,
We battle on as hardened soldiers,
Taking whatever life throws at us,
We battle on and show our scars,
For we know who are,
We know how each one came to be,
They say we don't give up easily,
They say I AM ME.