Perfect’s Dead

image presents four good apples and one bad

Perfect’s Dead – poem

Perfect’s Dead If only I were perfect Cos perfect is okayPerfect wouldn’t be angryEvery single fecking day Perfect doesn’t age, grow fat or be uglyPerfect doesn’t make mistakes, break or get diseaseIf I were perfect he’d build a castle for my securityHe’d fight for meBut perfect I’m not; so slowly I rot as he searchesScrambling…

SamJHarris

Feb 22, 2022

1 minute

arrogance, Beauty, British Poetry, Equality, expectations, love, perceptions, perfection, Poetry Me, unextraordinarybint, vanity

If only I were perfect

Cos perfect is okay
Perfect wouldn’t be angry
Every single fecking day

Perfect doesn’t age, grow fat or be ugly
Perfect doesn’t make mistakes, break or get disease
If I were perfect he’d build a castle for my security
He’d fight for me
But perfect I’m not; so slowly I rot as he searches
Scrambling for memories and society’s promises

Oh to be perfect, what a thing that would be
I could watch him searching infinity
He’d be looking here and there but find me no where
Why would perfect want to be found?

By earthy worms breaking ground?

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