Am I perfect ?

Am I perfect, I often ask , In this endless dance behind the mask ; A flawless being , without a flaw is such a person sculpted according to the universe's law ? My every single blunder makes me wonder; Do these flaws really weigh me down , Or does it add up as a jewel to my crown ? I trip and fall, but I also rise, And with every step, my fear dies; Is it perfection that I truly seek or courage to stand, though I feel weak ? So am I perfect? Maybe so In the ways this world would never know ; For in the cracks, my truth shines through , Perfectly flawed , perfectly new .