PERFECT OR IMPERFECT

When we were younger, we were like clones...

Child-that's beautiful, Unspoiled innocence

Before i grew up, into a fractured (shell)...

Mislead by illusive blanket of self hate - self fabricated

Media influence, peer pressure for perfection, and a cult of gllossy,

paper cut out, models

Stick figurines posing as supernatural beings 

And gods in the eyes of children,

Time fills insecurity in us..

sometimes it breaks down completely inside

I m sorry I can't be perfect..

Nothing last forever..

Didn't I grow up according to plan?

Feri tyo din, feri tyo raat

feri same struggle with oneself on a bheegi barshat

I know at it's worst i will 

be mocked, never praised

be shoved , never helped

be ashamed , never adored...

still i feel lost and forgotten...

inside an ocean of sufferings and struggling my way out into the mountain

so gigantic and warm sun kissing as if a perennnial river 

its bed and deposits of lyf making a fusss... 

where did my mud lost and breaths shortened,

i would be an imposter tring to fly out- fly out by wounded wings... trying to cut my roots

oh my gosh ! its all me, all along, and all the way i never cried that feasty feast...

and evaporated water of the sea, -all again flies the water and twigs again to touch its branch...

decayed and rusted-rotten-bones, - i endeavour hard but what to avail,

and fate ordained i must succumb to death and me a lost soul---reachin out unmeasured heights

But sometimes I realize imperfection is the symptom of being alive

Imperfections make us beautiful,

My inner beauty may be ugly to the rest of the world,

and when that doesn’t make me cry,

that’s beautiful.

Imperfections kick our asses to touch perfection...

However painful it may be

In some other way

Without them we’d all be the same, vain,

superficial and lifeless. That’s me,

that’s the me after I let go and forgot the beauty of my imperfections. 

Life is nothing but confusion between former and latter thoughts...

Still I’m just another disposable cliché.

There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t been said before. 

I’m the adolescent with overused metaphors and over expressed expressions.

I’m not the only one,

drowning in imperfection.