is it possible to have something perfect?
everything i see points to no
but do i stop trying
do i stop looking?
would i even know what perfect was if i found it?
my view of it may have changed from what it was intended to be
i might see it and glance over
i might have seen it and glanced over
perfect is a beautiful word
but a word, is all that it is
7 letters that keep pushing you
and idea that keeps whispering to you
find me find me
but gone as fast as its spoken.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem