Imperfect like broken butterfly wings,
marred and yet enhanced by its
gruesome beauty.
Despair like the sky,
dark as night, haunting in its
ethereal beauty.
Hollow like a tree whose heart
has been ripped from its
protective embrace.
Empty like a man with no purpose,
whose nights haunt him and whose days bring to light
his transgressions.
Imperfect.
Hollow.
Empty.
Disparity.
That is all I am.
