meh

a bump on the back of my arm
bigger than a pimple, smaller than a lump
has no hair, causes no harm
not noticeable, not worth a care
but I do. I wish it was not there.

a mother. sweet and sincere
two sons, one could have been done
a bump on his head, or in it in fact
it would still be there - if our technology lacked
he's still here, he wished it was never there

hundreds of years ago, fever, and a telltale sneeze
a trickle of blood, cities, down to their knees
invisible killer, millions to their graves
no war to be fought. life could not be bought.
a twitch of the nose, wished never was there

a serpant, it's told, once spoke to a girl
no bumps or lumps, maybe not even a sneeze
no cancer for sure, yet still we were lured
in a perfect world, must we still want more?
it seems, likely, we would even say please.



perfection, we desire
we desire it so
yet we don't let ourselves know
we don't let ourselves go
one step at a time
one failure per step
though we don't know
we don't let ourselves know
few truly wish for perfection
fewer for flaws