Perfection; a personal vision
The beauty of the flowers made her sick,
The freshness in the air was far too thick,
The superb tone from the birds in the sky,
Forced her to cover the ears and find a place to hide.
All these items made the world a perfect place,
But if she could she would run away from all its grace.
Perfection was the last thing she needed to be thrown in her face,
Darkness and rain were more her taste.
Thunder or silence, either way,
Is better than the words lovers say.
Because when sadness is in your air,
Happiness is what we fear.
Then we need someone to eagerly say,
That perfection is made wherever I stay.
On the bare ground under my feet,
On the plate where I usually eat,
On the summer day that you met me,
On the very spot where I may be...
Perfection is a matter of choice,
That sings differently with every voice.
Ones trash is another's treasure,
Remember that and let go of the pressure.
If it's not okay then it's not okay,
If it's perfect ask it to stay.
Decisions, decisions,
What should I do?
Is it hard?
Is it easy?
Is it a question at all?
Decisions, decisions,
Can only be answered by you.
S.T.K Ξ
