Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
christopher-f-brownPoems
Look at these people With their perfect bodies their perfect families their perfect houses and cars and their other perfect things If I say this directly to anyone or even aloud the knee **** conditioned response is to say I me they suffer from jealousy Why do people wait four or five decades before they accept life is not perfect there is no perfect thing no perfect someone no perfect anything you accept what you will refuse what you wont put purpose to plan its all what you decide to make of it They say that is settling it could be Id disagree with their understanding of the word forcing something to be a certain way a certain way that only existed in one’s uncertain mind how is that anywhere near perfect how is that anything less than delusional I could force myself to be completely other than I am be what I believe I should be have what I believe I should have do what I believe I should do but is any of that perfect is any of that me where is the reality in that reality never had anything to do with the notion the idea the thing called perfect They said weren’t you the one that said pursue your passion weren't you the one that said the only difference between a dream and a goal are the details that occupy the reality in between Sometimes I hate talking to me © Christopher F. Brown 2015
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
The Oxymoron of Being
Look at these people With their perfect bodies their perfect families their perfect houses and cars and their other perfect things If I say this directly to anyone or even aloud the knee **** conditioned response is to say I me they suffer from jealousy Why do people wait four or five decades before they accept life is not perfect there is no perfect thing no perfect someone no perfect anything you accept what you will refuse what you wont put purpose to plan its all what you decide to make of it They say that is settling it could be Id disagree with their understanding of the word forcing something to be a certain way a certain way that only existed in one’s uncertain mind how is that anywhere near perfect how is that anything less than delusional I could force myself to be completely other than I am be what I believe I should be have what I believe I should have do what I believe I should do but is any of that perfect is any of that me where is the reality in that reality never had anything to do with the notion the idea the thing called perfect They said weren’t you the one that said pursue your passion weren't you the one that said the only difference between a dream and a goal are the details that occupy the reality in between Sometimes I hate talking to me © Christopher F. Brown 2015
#poetry#f#of#the#being#brown#oxymoron#christopher#a1abwritercom
christopher-f-brown
Written by
christopher-f-brown
American
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem