Everybody's perfect
Well, nobody's perfect.
sighed in resignation,
spoken in rationalization,
shouted in indignation,
epitah to a fucked up nation
Truth be told, who said we were?
Look in the mirror, what's there
a perfect image of imperfect me,
a flawed reflection of perfect experience,
predjudiced by choices, culture and family.
How can there be perfection in a Universe that
changes with the beat of a Humming birds wing.
I created myself and I am what I am. That's as perfect,
as it will ever be.
2 comments:
Interesting poem, one that challenges as much as it reflects the reality of self-created pain ("resignation, rationalization"). I like the twist between the title "Everybody's perfect" and the perfection inherent in the ending line "I am what I am" (evoking the "godness" in us all).
I don't think that I can call anything I write as poetry, it's more akin to a lyrical train of thought. At least I try to make it that way.
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