we're always searching for perfect.
subjected to things unkind
things you wish to never endure
you'd rather skin yourself
hard cut across your abdomen
long slits up your sides
you'd shed your skin like a shirt
it's too tight anyway.
it stresses you
but the way it makes you think
your creativity thrive
is so worth it.
you're still unsure about
them.
maybe that will change
soon.
but chances are it will all fall through
and you'll be stuck here, still
one is such a clear choice
thoughts astray
and yet thoughts the same
but such a mystery is the other
with pretty words
that you're tethered
by guitar strings
unable to be cut
things in your life
changed to flimsy paper
with crayon drawn on
by the deaf, dumb and blind
and when the rain comes
it all washes
away.
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