Fixated on perfection.
To the finest details.
Passing through inspections.
Searching for imperfections
It is not complete you see.
A human without symmetry.
Without inabilities.
Temporarily,
The defects are embraced.
Eventually,
They can be erased.
Abortion or alteration
It's a money game.
Pick your poison,
the mistake or the perfect?
Who's to say the decision is wrong?
When moneys involved it becomes dark logic.
Darkness invites all. Accepts the true or the false.
In the end it engulfs everything.
It invites the creation of everything.
From the fear of terror.
To peacefulness of space.
The absence of color.
The absence of objects.
The cluttered mind.
Imperfect night.
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What is on my mind...Poems
I write poems for the hell of it. Observe... Quotes are in them too. Whatever I write may not be a poem but who cares.
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