The Perfect Me

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
The perfect I, staring back at me.
She's only an illusion,
But oh what a vision!

She must be thinking ill of me,
I expect her to say; 'how ugly!'
'Why look at that hair and that nose,
Why anyone would create her, heaven knows!'

She looks at me, and I at her,
Wondering what to say I 'um' and I 'err'
But instead of glaring, I see her smile.
A smile that explains so much in such a short while.

She wants to be like me,
With all the imperfections you see,
She says "It's hard being the ideal,
Sometimes I just want to be real!"

Sure she has perfect hair and skin,
But she feels hollow deep within.
She doesn't know sin and regret
She hasn't met my Saviour yet.

She doesn't understand grace,
In her life it hasn't got a place.
But my Saviour forgave me,
And I accepted the gift freely.

I don't want to be her,
The girl in the mirror,
I'm not perfect, not in a long shot,
But I like who I am, perfect be it not.

Curious