To Idealise is Sin!
For one ignores truth,
instead holding with sentiment a specific image within.
Without flaw and without compromise,
a picture unattainable.
Perfection in beauty and in mind.
Ultimately bearing no ties
to what truly exists.
His object of desire is like a flake of snow;
each entanglement of the fibers of ice hold
patterns only visible under rigorous scrutiny.
Yet the closer one gets,
near to contact, it begins to hit ya
like a brick to the chest;
it bears no resemblance
uglier than expected is the picture.
Broken in agony one becomes;
stock still stared.
Knocked like a left hook to the chin.
A fallen soul unwilling to be spared.
Isolated he roams.
In anguish he brims, as a result
He becomes the metal man with nothing but a heart of tin.
For this reason and this reason alone...
To Idealise is Sin!