Perfect cities
Watch them sit pretty on the dirt
They claim the Earth, they swallow the seas
They boast of their design, they believe in their perfection
When really, they resemble all the rest.
Perfect fields,
They have so much to flaunt,
Poppies and peas, wheat and beans
There is no end, there is much to see
They rely on their beauty, their shun their insecurity
Will someone ever tell them
To be who they need to be?
Perfect shadows
No ever listens to them,
They live as outcasts, sown to their masters, forever mimicking their actions, forever in their grasp
Their eternity has been stolen
Their souls discarded
Then comes the seed of revolution
Will they revolt and rise?
Perfect trees
They live to grow, they grow to live
They compete,
'Which one of us will reach her first?'
They all admire the Sun blindly, stretching their branches towards the sky
But do they really know her?
Do they know her like the clouds know the birds that fly up high?
Do they know her like she knows the Moon?
Perfect minds
Addicted to fault, it's a bitter remedy
Like medicine it slides down the throat awkwardly
It tastes funny
But they crave more and more and eventually the acid digs into their bodies, eroding their bones to fine dust
Will someone tell them to stop?
Will someone tell the truth; perfection is the disease that steals lives, perfection is the poison, the weed
Will someone cure them?
Will anyone cure us?
Song - Look away - the dear hunter
YOU ARE READING
The Spiral
PoetryA deep dive into thoughts about the universe, life, emotions and more, down an endless poetic(and sometimes not poetic) spiral. We follow various characters.
