She was woven within the clouds
but never really settled on cushions of
                pearls that never rained down truth.

Her inclination tainted her wings of
        subjectivity, and she washed her
past off her, feathers descended in sorrow.

Tears crumbled as the truth that all wasn't
                    as was shown stripped her of virtue.
She never flew again, to show her solidarity for truth.


Her wings did open, but to show the strength
                   of even though she didn't soar
                   she was of the air of truth, faithful.

beneath his flawless public facade,
coated by the veneer of composure;
and the gloss of success,
he hid tragic despair of his life…

Write as flawless as the river,
as spotless as the mirror.
The sky can’t take its eyes
off it because it’s so clear.
If you ever spare
a word or two so pure.
Never wonder how it might look:
simply, it would be just like you.

Like a piece of paper with no marks,
Nothing interesting too look at,
Flawless is impossible
Unless it is fake
Flawless is never seen by the naked eye
You wonder why everyone has to try so hard
But I am not going to sit here and wait for someone to try and tell me to be that blank piece of paper,
To be boring,
To be something impossible because I am not
I am a beautiful watercolor painting,
Mostly blue,
I am the sea and the sky,
Painted with imperfections, I am
I am the wind made by careless markings,
The images in the clouds above the horizon,
I am the horizon, an imperfect spot where the sea and sky meet, I am the stars in the night
And I am the stars not seen,
I am a beautiful watercolor painting,
And sad is the person who refuses to see it.

I admired her paleness.
It was like the bitter stillness of the winters landscape.
Or the soft, fragile feathers encased in my bedside pillow.
No color amongst those perfect pore-less cheeks.
Her lips a crimson red; a rustic brown, stained her teeth as she smiled.
I never thought I’d bestow my eyes upon such beauty, a goddess among the earth.
A wolf among mere sheep.
I wanted nothing more than to lift my hand and graze that face but I mustn't.  
Because she shined so bright against the rest and I refused to dull that shine.
My muddied hand was not worthy of such perfection.
I wanted no other to lay eyes on her skin, hair, body.
I would sooner gouge out my own eyes than loose sight of what I am seeing before me.
She will be my last vision, oh but what a vision she was.

So many times before I sat there watching
Waiting, vegetating, it's so aggravating,
Waiting for this hell to freeze over.
I am in an ice box, I guess that's good as long
As it's inside a place I live, because then at least
I get to pace around or dream as is.

You sit there patting me on the head like I'm a stupid dog,
"There there, you'll get over your dreams. We all had to
At one point." I'm supposed to just sit here and feel golden,
This my darkest hour, the only thing I have left is that
I'm here where I can be a "pretty flower," but still I feel
I have no future with all of my dreams stolen.

I would give anything but to feel the fires of youth and life,
Now I get to be whatever else and poor as I am "free."

*One man's trash is another man's treasure, indeed...

Perfection, a word most people seek for
A state people look for their whole life
This little noun drives them crazy, daily
10 letters, one word makes million people go mad
The house, their lives, their makeup, their work need to be perfect
No mistake can show,
everything needs to look smooth & flawless
Flawless, has the the word flaw in it

Let me tell you something
A little girl asked me once if she looked perfect.
She had black leggings and a pink tutu on, on top she wore a pink robe with a sparkling tiara. In one hand she held a wand and in the other an ice cream. Her mouth was stained with chocolate, twirling to the music. She loved herself, all these imperfections, flaws made her perfect.
And all I could say to her was "Yes", with a big grin on my face.
She looked satisfied with the answer and went on with her perfect dancing and eating her favourite ice cream.

No one could take away the things she loved,
so why do we strive for perfection,
when we actually have everything that makes us flawless.