Perfection
Wreckage
Never
walk with a perfectionist hand in hand
Misery,
wreckage and tears will be the island
Even Nature
acts like an erratic clock
It veers
to extremes in a tick then back to tock
Raising
nostalgia gives hearty neuralgia
A type of
perfection is the past because it’s set like algebra
Hurts
when remembered, so best swallow gin ‘til under
Let the
music soothe and concentrate on kisses from AN other
A hurt
soul’s chronic pain is an umbilical from hell
Attached
by life and will not let go despite you ringing the bell
It takes
the kiss of your prince or princess to break that spell
The walls
of destiny cast by evil will strive to prevent that knell
I
remember the rains, the warm sun and red sand
A
childhood of innocence in a Land that raised her son tanned
Now I
move belonging nowhere keeping sentimentality over there
I am my
mind and my Identity is made by me, because I dare
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