I compared you to an angel because that's how I saw you,
but you just shook your head and whispered how it couldn't be true.
You claimed you were no where near perfect, but I never said you were, did I?
Because even the most perfect of perfect angels have their flaws to make them sigh.
I realize you could have your own reasons not to be an angel or a saint,
but I can only see you, the imperfect you, without any taint.
Maybe it's just me, so I won't argrue or start a fight to prove that I'm right,
but you won't change my mind and I'll believe in you forever with all of my might.
You can say what you want and you can argue with me until you get bored,
but at least that way you can be sure you will never be ignored.
Angel or demon, devil or saint, in an imperfect world there is no complaint
it only matters to the one afriad to be great and darkened by a jealous hate.
As a caring hand that touches my heart or a strong and determined shield of protection
in everything I see in you I see no imperfection.
Every place has its rules and every place has its laws,
but not one of them says angels can't have flaws.