I am made entirely of flaws,

stitched together by good intentions.

Everybody’s little doll,

perfect for all your dirty jobs

yet not enough to receive your love.

All I desire to be is seen.

Appreciation is the hope that weaved my body.

Love is the thread that holds me together.

Hope is the ichor that pumps my heart.

You all look at me with wariness and disgust,

already naming me “Monster” in your head.

Little do you know,

Those pieces that you are missing, all the imperfections and problems,

are the pieces I am made of.