Perfect People
Yes, I'm disturbed
This much is true
But the question is
How much more
Am I than you?
The problem we have
Is opinion you see
You call me sick
Though I think it's you
Not me
True, my thoughts, fleeting at best
And my conscience won't sleep
Through a tortured nights rest
My heart does bleed
For the innocent and meek
And my soul prays for peace
Everyday of the week
But I'd rather live
the way that I do
Than to be cold-hearted,
Unfeeling,
And perfect like you
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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