Can We Be Perfect?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Nobody can ever be perfect, and this just talks about that.

Submitted: November 18, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 18, 2008



life should never be like this.
Every shadow that creeps along the wall,
sends shivers through my spine,
oh, they’re calling,
pointing their fingers at me.

Oh, don’t you hear them calling?
Don’t you feel them shouting my name?
Why don’t I turn around and point my finger at you?
And make them believe that you’re the one to blame?
force them to pass the fault from me, to you.

Don’t whisper.
Scream as loud as space can possibly permit,
until your lungs give out
and your eyes dazzle, flicker, and fade.
Not seeing the cold, hard ground coming up fast to meet you.

Are you pleased to meet me?
Cause my dear, I wouldn’t be.
But there’s nothing to fear,
my obligations are sober,
but my reality is passed out on the floor,
with one foot in
and one foot our the door,
kick it down,
to see everyone standing in line.
Oh, wouldn’t you like to take a number?
Wouldn’t you love to join them?
After all,
they’re no strangers,
each of them has a quality that reminds me of you.

Never reaching farther
than the surface of a frantic slumber,
so why must we waste our time closing our eyes, slowing our breathing, and saying goodbye?

Devastation makes it happen so much easier,
and so much faster.

Your seething agony
won’t touch me.
Law of balance knows I’ve already got enough on my side,
it understands my conscience.
soon enough, everyone will wonder what became of us.

Hold the smile,

As if it’s dying to flee,
hold your smile,
as if It’s a dying child.
Just as you are.
Hold it tight,
until the flame grows and dissipates,
leaving you content and alone in the dark.

Oppressing the vows,
making sure the breaths don’t beat your voice to the punch-line.
Soon everyone will wonder what happened to us.
They won’t know what to do.
But neither did we.
They try their best

To be all that they can be,
to beat the rest.
They’re not perfect,
but neither are we.

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