I
Perfection
Is in the dead man
Who is as no more
As peace.
He married life
And she broke her vows,
Now he is here
Perfectly free
With ties to here
Cut free.
His words live without
Essence nor presence
And his face fades
From apparent appearances.
II
Perfection
Is in the broken heart
Of a man wronged
By her.
He is perfectly aware now
That women lie.
They tried to see eye
To eye but it was like
They were both blind,
Perfection is in
His perfectly
Broken
Heart.
III
Perfection
Is in the mind
Of a madman who is
Perfectly unaware of
Songs of sorrow nor
Poems of pain that flow
Through life--
He is as free as
A slave and health
Can not find him.
But he is perfectly
Carefree and lives through
Everyday playing hide-and-seek
With his lover,
Sanity.
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