perfect.

321 41 6
                                    


your muscles may not be the strongest,
but that doesn't mean mountains still aren't built within them, and they can't carve the bodies of the skies and hills

your blood may not be the thickest, but that doesn't mean rivers still don't course through your veins, running like liquid gold as they keep you breathing

your hair may not be the shiniest, but that doesn't mean it isn't sculpted from the sun's very rays, and can't illuminate the cities with all that it is worth

your eyes may not be the brightest,
but that doesn't mean that they don't contain thousands of galaxies, lighting the night sky like each individual star

your brain may not work the fastest,
but that doesn't mean sparks don't pulsate through it, fuelling each and every glorious idea that springs to mind

your heart may not be the biggest,
but does that mean it still doesn't beat?

do you not still feel each soft thrum as it drums against your ribcage like a xylophone, singing a song that could soothe the most corrupted minds and broken souls as it echoes throughout each and every minor road that your body holds vacant; it is its own way of telling you, you are a l i v e

dear, you may not be perfect

but anybody would be foolish to say that you aren't

i n c r e d i b l e

- perfection is just an idealised way of living. but there's no such thing as perfect. so just live.

SMALL TALKS Where stories live. Discover now