THE MYTH

Perfection is a myth

A height only one could reach

A tongue many learn but only one could speak

A piece of meat we all scramble for but only one dims fit

Perfection is puzzle with a missing piece

The closer you get the farther it seems

It’s like light that over shines when it dims

And rain that over pours when it drizzles

Perfection is drug

Intoxicates the mind of the host

And makes him bulletproof to flaws

The very essence of his existence