You and I.
As humans...we are flawed.
We are in existence to learn and to teach. We take insight from our past faults and observe others' actions and motives so we, ourselves, do not make parallel decisions. We were not intended for perfection. I breathe, because it is the only thing that comes natural to me. I wake up every morning and I cherish the very fact that I am alive, because as far as I'm concerned my only job is to wake up, and live.
If somebody was to say, "I am perfect."
I would tell them, "Go to Hell."
If God created anything even close to perfection, I would say it is a butterfly. Butterflies are completely symmetrical in everyway. They float gracefully in the air and show no sign of hesitation nor self-doubt. They have no destination, but have no worry of where they will end up. I always wonder where they do end up though. As I watch a butterfly elevate over the tree tops and above the roofs, I always wish that I could just see where that butterfly went to. I think they all disperse into the atmosphere.
You scream, "I want to make the world a better place!" as you suck back your cigarette. And slowly, but surely you take seconds, minutes, hours, days, even years off of your life. These are all years I could spend laying next to you. If I was as amazing as your eyes seem to percieve, I would think that you would want every second, minute, hour, day, and year you could have with me, but I know that must not be the case. So just don't mind me, take a drag then blow out every opportunity we have to be together. You stand there on the cold pavement with apologetic eyes. The sun is just so fucking oblivious to everything that goes on at this hour. You second guess yourself, as you always do, and I look away. You suck on your cigarette and it's just killing my lungs.
The smoke rises up into the sky, and then soon evaporates into the clouds and air to forever be forgotten, just like me. You will breathe me in, and then for a short period of time I will be within your body to feel and understand every emotion and every thought you could concieve; then you will let go of me, and you will let me go. So just let me go now, let me rise into the sky and disperse into the atmosphere just like all those butterflies who seemed so beautiful and so astounding and then just within the blink of an eye, they were gone. I just hope that you won't forget about me, that you will watch me fly away and I just hope you wonder where I will end up. Just like all those butterflies.
I wish somebody would frame my face and hang me on the wall in some art museum so you can forever stand in some cold, stuffy room sorrounded by unknown strangers and admire me. I hope some foreign tourist looks at me and says, "Oh what a lovely painting!" and you get jealous, so you walk up to me and kiss me on the lips when the security guard has his back turned. I hope you can still be in love with a painting.
I am perfect.
Now tell me to go to Hell.
We are in existence to learn and to teach. We take insight from our past faults and observe others' actions and motives so we, ourselves, do not make parallel decisions. We were not intended for perfection. I breathe, because it is the only thing that comes natural to me. I wake up every morning and I cherish the very fact that I am alive, because as far as I'm concerned my only job is to wake up, and live.
If somebody was to say, "I am perfect."
I would tell them, "Go to Hell."
If God created anything even close to perfection, I would say it is a butterfly. Butterflies are completely symmetrical in everyway. They float gracefully in the air and show no sign of hesitation nor self-doubt. They have no destination, but have no worry of where they will end up. I always wonder where they do end up though. As I watch a butterfly elevate over the tree tops and above the roofs, I always wish that I could just see where that butterfly went to. I think they all disperse into the atmosphere.
You scream, "I want to make the world a better place!" as you suck back your cigarette. And slowly, but surely you take seconds, minutes, hours, days, even years off of your life. These are all years I could spend laying next to you. If I was as amazing as your eyes seem to percieve, I would think that you would want every second, minute, hour, day, and year you could have with me, but I know that must not be the case. So just don't mind me, take a drag then blow out every opportunity we have to be together. You stand there on the cold pavement with apologetic eyes. The sun is just so fucking oblivious to everything that goes on at this hour. You second guess yourself, as you always do, and I look away. You suck on your cigarette and it's just killing my lungs.
The smoke rises up into the sky, and then soon evaporates into the clouds and air to forever be forgotten, just like me. You will breathe me in, and then for a short period of time I will be within your body to feel and understand every emotion and every thought you could concieve; then you will let go of me, and you will let me go. So just let me go now, let me rise into the sky and disperse into the atmosphere just like all those butterflies who seemed so beautiful and so astounding and then just within the blink of an eye, they were gone. I just hope that you won't forget about me, that you will watch me fly away and I just hope you wonder where I will end up. Just like all those butterflies.
I wish somebody would frame my face and hang me on the wall in some art museum so you can forever stand in some cold, stuffy room sorrounded by unknown strangers and admire me. I hope some foreign tourist looks at me and says, "Oh what a lovely painting!" and you get jealous, so you walk up to me and kiss me on the lips when the security guard has his back turned. I hope you can still be in love with a painting.
I am perfect.
Now tell me to go to Hell.