My mind wanders around in a field of words,
Lately, the only word I like is perfection,
It approaches me every day that I wake up,
I'd like to think that I suffer from imperfection.
Many, just like myself often wonder what perfection is;
The state or quality of being or becoming perfect;
A quality, trait or feature of the highest degree of excellence,
Some people would like to agree, but I object.
Why is there a word of perfection,
When no one in the world is perfect?
What gets to me most about this though,
The world is "perfect", while experiencing conflict.
A young teenage female with a negative attitude,
A man pimping females around the this universe,
Is it me that thinks this or what because it seems;
As though 2008 has been directed and rehearsed.
Babies born with diseases and full of Cancer,
How is that fair? How is that perfect?
They haven't been alive to make any mistakes,
Prime example of americans being tricked.
Kids born into a family full of drugs and alcohol,
Not know any different than to just sell on the streets,
They aren't given a chance of knowing the best,
Growing up to be nothing but punks- deadbeats.
War? No need to pin-point my feelings on that subject,
No need explain the depths of my opinions,
Because that is another example of being imperfect,
Because my words just end up thrown in trashed gardens.
