What is perfection, for that which we crave?
We long, we desire?
Does this not cause envy, hate...
Division?
For don't we often embody this "perfection" in a person?
Our aspirations to hope
Similar fates.
Perfection is balance
And yet
We exchange morals for such a thing
Is there really such a thing as perfection?
Every means of obtaining as such
Does not immediately make you believe it
There will always be a compromise to this
Something that will continually obstruct it
For perfection is but a lie
Hidden beneath the mask
Of deceit and desire