imperfect being drifting

on the other side of the wall

to be free of err is to be captive

to nothing at all

for it does not exist to perfect the 

'un'perfected ones

but to cherish the art of 

being an unfinished masterpiece

in a tier second to none

looking within, where in

self love finds herself

in a chamber of broken mirrors

in which she'll forever remain

if the imperfect being allows

the disenchanted tenant of his own mind

to swallow the key, so it seems

to be given to us by the shinning bright

lights of the tv screens and 

billboard queens

the holstered choice of destruction for

media kings

to foreclose the deteriorating home she

once felt at peace with

a forgetless, relentless adversary

on the streets you try to walk on

in order to find yourself only to find 

a foreclose notice posted on the door 

of your soul

forget it all, rip it up, force the mind 

to hand over the keys, clean up the yard

and tear down that wall

only to find that every house on the block

foreclosed, the same for all

the wall did'nt separate you from the ideal

but the reality that you're not the only one

drifting

you're not the only lonely one hitting walls

they all seemed to be locked out

the universe concludes the aforementioned

imperfect being proves to be a perfect being

in a world where perfection ceases

nay

never came to exist.

 

-Julien Grey