Imperfect Perfect
The perfect painting-
She’s walked for long adorning it;
With an array of aromatic colours
It’s been her identity for quite a while
Only perfect it is not and she’s the only one who knows
For within a tormented painting glares daringly at her
As if ridiculing her to put up a fight that was long lost
Having savored genuineness in her-
Her emotions took a hard turn
And now it’s hard for her to distinguish between true and false
She believed in love’s greatness over all emotions
And she feels it but somehow mistrusts it
So as cold creates more room for himself within
All other emotions kind of follow suit
Creating another unwanted version of her
So she plays the perfect role with an ease for the outside world
But inside normalcy grows weaker
Inside where the perfect painting she longs to hang
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