I don’t understand the madness of perfection.
It’s a goal strived upon yet leaves you undone
Like a baseball made of yarn.
We all try and give up
And try and give up
But we all end in this same collision of imperfection.
Because we strive for normality
Another concept created by the human mind.
In which leaves use voiceless
And useless in our minds.
So we create these pictures of how life should go
But instead we end up 6ft under the snow.
Suffocated by barriers we placed around ourselves.
Hoping to look the part.
But instead we find ourselves dead…
Because we used ourselves and abused ourselves.
It was never the world who neglected our favor
It was us…
No, it was me demeaning myself.
Saying what other people had said
As if I could read their minds.
And that’s where self-destruction comes from.
The thoughts that would never rhyme.