Imperfection

The young man stood tall in the midst of the crowd. He looked like a warrior. He looked like a leader.

It was perfection.

He had a serious look upon his face and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner strength.

It was perfection.

His skin was an icy peach. His hands didn't have a freckle or a callus. They were soft and smooth like silk.

It was perfection.

His clothes draped his frame nicely, revealing a beautify sculpted body.

It was perfection.

Upon his face was a hideous scar that reeked of pain and aguish. It married his beauty and it was the only thing people tended to see.

It was imperfection.

I'm not very happy with this, even after I fixed it up...Oh well, perhaps someone will like it...

-Alina