Malcontents

Perfection,

The doors that bar others,

desire for perfection,

Will break down.

And they will rise up,

And eat you,

Like a lion waiting in the tall grass,

For it’s moment,

To grab you in the neck.

Perfection,

Is a cross of death,

There is an army,

Of malcontents,

Marching behind it,

Waiting for you to turn away,

Because the minute you do,

They will be on you like a pack of wild dogs,

Tearing at your possessions,

And leaving you bone bare in the dirt.

So I beg you.

Let go of perfection,

Open you heart,

And see those around you,

Who need your care and loving kindness,

For Karma knows no mercy,

It is only balance.

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