Friday, July 8, 2011

Poem #495

Happy Birthday to my friend Liz :D 
 
Perfectly Imperfect
We all tend to believe we are completely flawed,
As if all is wrong, must be fixed into something new.
One gets lost in the tumultuous would we live in,
The words of society which runs our very lives.
They pull us into the depressing darkness of our minds,
Thrashing us about to make us lose hope.
Becoming convinced that we must change ourselves,
Tear our bodies apart; shred the evidence of our former beings,
Until we have become unrecognizably fake faces,
Souls which roam without any home in which to reside.
We rip off the appearance which we were meant to have,
Throw it away in exchange for a delicate porcelain façade,
Something we hide our true selves behind.
But what we never understand is what we are getting rid of,
The person we were meant to be, one more perfect.
Something society will never mention in its rampage,
Is that our imperfections make us perfect.

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