Book Of Verses

Cracks

What is perfection
But opinionated impressions?
It possesses the mind, body, and soul
Into depression.
"The image in the mirror
Is the true projection of perfection"
Staring in the mirror,
I can't stand what I see.
The eyes of the devil staring back at me.
I peer at him, and he peers back.
His malicious words are taunting,
"I'm inside of you, Jack."
Now I'm walking around,
Fighting mirrors,
I'm too afraid to face my worst fear.
Telling myself for a fact I'm not worth it.
These broken mirrors became
The cracks in Mr Perfect.

I'm a bit loose-leaf and scatterbrained,
With experience with static pain.
I know faces, but i can't guess a name.
I'm a short hipster,
With a temper that bursts into flames.
Attention whore,
I'd do anything to not be the same.
I often overestimate my strength.
I don't own an umbrella,
Because i like to stand under the rain.
I like to zone out for forever,
Cause music tends to dull my pain.
I've never had a "together,"
No one wants to be my dame.
I hate the earth,
I wish i could glass it from space.
I hate "fast,"
I like to go at my own pace,
To make it last.
I hate the look of my face.
My voice cracks.
Half the time, i can't find ways to word it,
Can't repeat things,
Even when i just heard it.
However brutal the truth, I'll serve it.
Even now, I still fear I'll fall through
The cracks in Mr Perfect.