-imperfectly perfect-

I want to wake without my heart missing its beat

And my sight ready to over analyse everything I see.

A person worthy of their inadequate reflection

And to be somebody’s love for un-realistic perfection.

Beautifully masked people drag their tired feet

A sight I find stranger than my own company.

There’s no ocean or river deeper than the tears that I cry

And there won’t be any left to endorse these jaded eyes.

It’s a sight easier to be seen than it is to describe

My lungs are barely breathing but my heart is still alive.

No bitter words are darker than what my body bleeds

And no soul like mine has been educated to mislead.

My arms are laced with things that may well be the death of me

A predictably built violence which I control so visually.

The scars I wear on my arm aren’t an embarrassment

They’re my beautiful reminder of my deluded character.