Danya Qattea


Imperfection is my Perfection


Imperfection is my perfection,
so, therefore, wouldn't perfection be my imperfection?
My thoughts dwell on this,
until, with a sigh,
I send a dismiss,
and sink back into my lovely bliss.
But, no matter how hard I try,
my mind always wanders back to this matter of perfectness.

Perfection is imperfection.
That is where this thought should end,
but it always seems to take an unexpected bend.
This matter seems to go wherever the darer shall like it to send.

Perfection is imperfection.
It is an ever evolving revolution.
That is my final conclusion.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 17, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I guess I was just thinking about how nobody was perfect.

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