Poetry

Empty

written by: Sweet Insanity

What is perfection? I've found it something than can never be reached. But then, everyone knows that. We are all imperfect beings in an imperfect world, which strangely, makes perfect sense. You see I find it easier to believe that I am less of someone rather than more. Because someone of more worth, someone nearing to perfection, they don't lack confidence or belief in who they are, regardless of their past. But someone like me, someone daily reminded of everything wrong within, so brutally honest with all my flaws and faults, someone like me is..... tainted. It's like looking in a dirty mirror and everything I see of me is dirty. Shadows, broken glass - nothing remotely close to perfection...... All this said and known but at the end of the day, does it really matter? Or does it count that we disregard ideas of perfection and live life as real as it ever gets to be? Seeing and knowing what everyone knows, how perfection is unreachable, is there any reason to my thoughts of it? Perhaps yes, perhaps not, but thoughts of the mind are alive all the same and they drive me to make sense of life, to validate my opinions, my thoughts, my passions. To voice the formulas of my personality, in freedom of speech.

And there you have it, my thoughts on perfection....