Cold Truth

I wish can I be the work of art
that portrays the mystical beauty
of goddesses

I wish I can be the detailed brush stroke
that adds that extra touch
to your masterpiece

I wish I can be the perfect silhouette
whose outlines are the perfect fit
for your hands to rest on

I wish I can be the vision of humanity
that ignites hope in the meek and dark
times of our era

I wish I can embody forgiveness
this rare jewel, that has lost
its efficacy

I wish I can attain perfection
WAIT..what is perfection?
Is it the one the dwells in the
protruding bones of
corpse like beauties in the media?

Is it the lush, stuffed in their
luscious lips? Is it the popularity
that so sadly pumps them
with a sick form of self worth?
Is it the number of sheep that follows
them blindly just to abide
by the silly sickness of conformity?

What is perfection? Is it
embedded in the audacity to voice
your opinions on a social network and stand
out from those categorical quizzes?

What is perfection?
Is it a husband? a lover? children?
stability? a healthy body? an organic diet?
a home?

What the hell is it?
What if, perfection isn’t the final destination?
what if we took perfection, stripped it
from its ornaments, shook it from its
Utopian traits, and removed the toga
of distorted beauty?

Perfection would be the naked state
of reverting back to what made you imperfect
to what made you rusty, cracked, dry,
heartbroken, aimless, with cloudy judgement
chaotic, confused, unhealthy, lost

Why do you starve yourself
from the pleasures and sins of life?
Who said the road to perfection is easy?
WHO EVEN SAID PERFECTION is a good thing?

Show me your scars,
share with me your unhealthy habits
Let’s sin together, let’s find joys
in the problems of today
in seclusion, in our
opinionated ram heads *quoted*

Let’s bitch about the perfections of
monetary pleasures, and get soaked
in the spendthrift lifestyle, surviving
on alcohol and cigarettes

Let’s walk everywhere in the cold
because our savings account
won’t even support a dinner for 2
let alone a car

Let’s make love to our third world country
it’s probably the only good fuck
anyone gives it!

Let’s enjoy our imperfections
our glitches, our errors, our social
awkwardness

Don’t blush, your body is yours
that’s what makes it the imperfect fit
Your love, well, who says it has to be perfect?
Love her if you will, love him if you want
hell, love them BOTH

that soul is yours,
that tumultuous nature of yours
cannot harness
perfection
for
it’s
just
too predictable
and you are
far from
it

wolfeffect.jpg

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