My Flaws Get Along.
I don’t love the way I feel all of the time, but I don’t feel the need for a billboard bullet or a bursting wallet with green coming out at the seams. I don’t have care in a world that is fair, but that world is one I have never seen. My perfect skin is never coming in, but my scars all seem grown like a newborn son who just turned one at twenty-two years old. My love is strong when it gets along with the target that it’s focused on, but my temper is short like when I was four and nothing was actually wrong. I take to heart things I should not, when thrown around in casual talk. I put myself in an awkward place with a porcupine with a pretty face that I do try to kiss until it hurts my lips or one of us remains. I take in stride the flaws I hide from my blind side and camera eyes, but they reside with a smile so wide…they’re live hermits that party all night.
-Kenny Vasoli
