poems for the ones who are just like me

wicked truth

from time to time

it is often hard to notice

how deprived one can be

simply from a lack of understanding

that you are so desperate to find

imperfection in complete strangers

tell me, how awful is that?

attaching & manifesting

ideal traits to someone

forgetting the potential they have

stripping them from their mysteriousness

forcing a fate that could not even exist

onto this poor, poor stranger

it is one thing to have ideas & daydream of what could be

and it is another to make a massive something out of absolutely nothing

to be idealistic, it is my strength

to be too idealist, it is my weakness

people are not perfect

people will never be perfect

the concept of perfection does not exist

perfection can't ever exist

the biggest obstacle i will endure

will not be from a bitter breakup with a lover

no no, it will be meeting those strangers

and never being anything past that

i am stuck in a space time continuum with aliens

never to form an understanding

of those around me

because i am living in a world that has yet to be discovered