As I said before, I'm not really qualified to critique poetry, but this piece is really lovely. Your message is clear and it flows beautifully. Many spend their lives seeking perfection in themselves and not finding it. Our imperfections are just part of being human.
This reminds me of a short story I read a long time ago. A young artist saw a beautiful landscape in the window of an old deserted house. He spent years with his easel in the field beside the old house, trying to copy the painting he saw through the window. He could never get it quite right. Finally, he bought the house so he could view the painting up close. When he first climbed the stairs, he was so excited. Then when he got to the spot the painting should have been, there was a large empty frame. The water stains and mold on the wall had created an illusion of the landscape. The man had spent ten years of his life trying to copy a masterpiece that didn't even exist. It was one of those stories that stick in your mind. :)
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