Perfection

The darkness of the sky above my head
Breaks silence and wakes up the dreadful thoughts:
What will my worries be when I am dead?
What will my errors mean when I am old?

At nights we cry for everything at once
And then just fall asleep of getting tired.
Cause our dreams will never stand a chance
At least all that we REALLY desire.

The worst addiction? Cigarettes or drugs?
Or drinking to forget the inner pain?
….Or to make up the non-existent hugs
Of non-existent mother, friend or man?

We get so disappointed and weak
And find it right to settle for…
For less.
We call it “flexibility” and pick
The first that comes along in all this mess.

We pay attention to unhealthy food,
We clean the house of the dirt and dust.
We’ve rendered harmless EVERY THING we could.
Forgetting about poison inside us.

To live with less and never satisfied
To hate the things that used to be YOUR choice?
“Be flexible”. I thought that we should fight
TO FOLLOW, not to drown inner voice!

The solitude – the hugest wasteful fear.
We’re born, we live and we will die alone.
But frankly, you already disappeared
When you gave up the things you used to want.

You say that perfect things do not exist.
But this is just a pitiful excuse.
The laziness and ignorance are mist
Which blocks you extraordinary views
Which makes you blind and saves the comfort zone
In which you feel so safe and die inside
When you COULD take decisions on your own
But why if it is easier to hide?

"Be flexible". Like everybody does.
"Be patient". "Take it easy." "Let it go".

Bury your wishes "letting time to pass".

Why do you live?
You never gonna know.

(c)Diana Opanasenko