What if I told you I'm not perfect?

You say I am,

But you fail to observe.

For my life is a stream of lies

With short intermissions of truth.

For one does not know what I do at night,

Nor my fradulence of the day.

For one fails to look

Beyond the one good thing

Of that one day

When you first saw thee

Out on the green.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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