Stained by a dirty past of unthinkable vices,
they sit nicely tucked at the back of our minds,
feeding a thought or action every once in a while.
Judged by that which in a momentary loss of judgment
overtaken and faced by it.
shaken to the bone by its impact once revealed,
the weakness that lay there.
Placed at your mercy, as perfection that we aspire you claim,
demanding from my less than perfect self.
Unashamed by your brutal accusation that weakens a growing spirit,
stunned by the lacking persistence,the ease by which you walk away,
pride in your step not wanting anything to do with what is damaged.
what was once beauty and bliss now ugly, amiss,
a tortured soul and still you fail to realize
we are all damaged somehow.
