Im held to the ground by my imperfections. Dodging bullets thrown by those in need of correction. Understanding that life is filled with much uncertainty, acting only on the knowledge that I am most certainly free. Held to my actions and words by the thought of perfection, being only that which determins selections. Into a realm by which the humble are seeking, gained only by those whose words are worth speaking. Determined by a world whose ear seem cut off and closed, and unwilling to listen to that which they are opposed. But truth can be heard by the hearts of the few, whose minds are filled with possibilities anew. Whos lives are practice in the faith of whats real, but whos minds are not blinded to what true beauty can reveal. Because truth doesnt come through trial and error, truth comes from understanding that we are all rare. Held together by a contract of emotions and deeds, that defines us as a society with real human needs. To be loved and accepted, held and adored. To act on these wishes and hope to find reward. Because when the reaper comes to collect on our debt, we are all going to wish to wake in a cold sweat. To find more presious time, in our running hour glass. To hold on to each grain and not let it pass. Without cherishing the moment and giving it our heart. Without telling those we love, they are a work of art. Painted by the Picaso of the ground that we walk. Whos motives no one will ever unlock. But disagree on forever, untill the end of time we will. And break our human contract with the blood that we spill. Of our bothers and sisters who feel just the same, as the men and women who share our last name. So read me your books and give me your shame. For logic is my shepard for this world i look to tame. For i hold in my heart a truth unknown. One not found in a book or scripture alone. Or known by those who try to speak fear, through a book whose hypocricy is well too clear. One only found when you see a mans true soul, and realize 'that is all i need to know.' To stare at the only perfection this world will ever know, and hold him in the same regards as winters first snow. Or summers true spirit, or falls pure brilliance. Or when the sea meets a rocks true resiliance. Imperfection may hold me firm to the ground, but my spirits true beauty holds no bounds. And when the world can see one another through each others eyes, then humanities posibilities will break all its ties. Will be stripped of its shackles and free of its chains. Will be free of its stife and know no pain. And we as a beautify creation of perfection itself, will finally find peace in oneself.