Muffled, ruffled, or all a-shuffled,
No matter, your tatter, I'm never gladder,
Than to see, you be, uniquely free,
To portray and display, your very own way.
Smudged, begrudged or even prejudged,
Despite your plight, you never lose sight,
That 'life is rife with strife',
Leaving scars that carve who we are.
That's a very good point you make through this poem. I love the way you can rhyme your thoughts. Keep it up..
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