Ever since I can long remember,
Trying to make everything right,
Now my life, reached September,
Long struggle, turns into a fight.
Facing the truth of good enough,
Can’t compete with anything more,
Giving in and calling my bluff,
No anticipation of what’s in store.
Perhaps it’s all inside of us,
Born with the gift from beginning,
Relearning how to coalesce,
As natural voice, takes to singing.
I’ve never met that perfect one,
Why should I think I could be?
In the end, will life feel undone?
Or will death simply set me free?
G.R. Gaus's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Perfection by G.R. Gaus )
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)