Imperfect
I dodge the mirror like it’s coming to get me
I lay around like something will change
I curse my frame and do not eat
then I mess it all up again
I spark one up as a way of releasing
then wonder why I feel the same
I’ve never been the jester type, I lose most every game
and how I tower, splutter and scour
putting in my two pence when the bill has been paid
Yet when I yearn for a different shape, different pastime, different state, every drop of me dries up
every lump, with it every bump, is part of my mosaic
every thorn has its rose, there’s a darkness behind every pose
Imperfect is my perfect; it’s me everyone knows
Yes, I bare all my emotions
I can be short, I can form oceans
I get things wrong, sometimes more than right
I don’t foresee with perfect sight
But I’ll be there when things feel off, when you’re drowning and it all just stops
I’ll prove myself when you’re not sure
when I fall down I’ll find another door
Imperfect is my perfect and will be for ever more
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