why must everything be perfect
to an imperfect mind?
an imperfect soul?
why must i love her
love you, love me
if there is nothing to grasp onto?
through the cracks
the flaws
i see it!
just as a damaged vase with all of its fragments
still mends together
our flaws do too.
split our soul into a thousand parts
and every piece is still as recognizable
as part of a whole identity.
our flaws hint at a grander scheme
grander than i know
do i know?
does it matter?
YOU ARE READING
poems, pt. 1
Poetrya collection of 6 poems dedicated to humanity and its understanding of itself.
