The Perfection

Perfection seeps into human interpretation,      
driven into starving sobs by    
raging determination.      
Rearing frenzied on muscular hind legs,      
yearning for some self esteem to tear into.      
     
Your instincts kick in.      
Screaming silently: survival of the fittest.      
Watch out, the tide is coming.      
Sweeping you swiftly off your feet,      
to be consumed by months      
of withdrawn expressions.      
     
Delicately outlining the beautiful      
that shades your blood weary.      
Slashing inner sardonic personalities open,      
to let the unsightly trickle out.      
Your doubt has welcomed the shadows to      
slink back into becoming unspoken but known.      
     
Caring faces are transparent,      
barely wisps of air.      
As you sell your soul    
and purchase the right to suicide,      
they turn and leave.      
Future is a foreign word.      
     
Sunsets and castles are knocked down      
in your own path of self destruction.      
Sacrificing the childish dreams      
that you hoard in your sterilised heart,      
no feeling left to infect it.      
     
The seasons go down in a haze of black,      
obsession kills the days you used to see.      
The Perfection curls into itself, sated.      
Happy to call your mind home.