What is it to be perfect?
To never have felt an ounce of fear
A drop of guilt
A smidgen of pain
What is it to never have hurt
To never have broken
Never have ruined
What does it feel to never have regreted
Or begged to go back
To have prayed for forgiveness
To hope for just once
How does it feel?
Your bones might never groan
Your muscles never shriek
You will never know tears
And never know panick
And you will never know
the feeling of skin
Beneath your fingertips
The feeling of metal in your hand
The itch of the ear
And the tickle of the tongue
You will never have lost
Or mistook
And I will never know
What it is to not
I know the urge to turn blind eyes
To make war
To create chaos
To extinguish light
To stumble in circles
Over and over
To pull against cold chains
And to sit at a table of feasts
Tell me, do you like
The feeling of innocence?
The feeling of perfection?
Because I cannot feel
I cannot be satisfied
I cannot eat and be full
Drink and be relieved
I cannot be touched and feel shivers
I cannot know what it is to be perfect.
