Imperfect Me

The clock goes tick then it goes tock,

reminding me of things I haven't done.

Time is running out, night is closing in;

so much pressure working under your gun.

 

Wanting to be perfect, wishing you'd see,

something other than the imperfection in me.

Your eyes see all that lack;

even the sun can't hide my aging cracks.

 

It's no mystery to me,

the anger you feel.

The frustration and rage

are all too real.

 

Today begins to fade;

I look at what I've done.

Negativity in my head so tightly spun,

I'm tired of living this charade.

 

Reviews

[Laura Harrison]

I can relate to this. You have captured the feelings perfectly.

[kar]

thank you so much for reading and commenting. I really appreciate you taking the time to do so!

[Coyote Poetry]

"I'm tired of living this charade."
I understand this poem. Above line is true for the many of us. I like use of time to make your point in the poem. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[kar]

thank you again for your wonderful comments. this piece was especially difficult to write as it is so personal.

[Coyote Poetry]

I work with time and schedule. The clock seem to control life and thoughts.

[kar]

Ah, yes, there are many ways this piece can be interpreted. To view it surrealistically many things will come to light. I was feeling quite restricted in my own life when writing this. It seemed no matter where I turned, no matter what I did there were blocks everywhere. Many of the blocks came from within. Funny how that happens. Thank you so much for reading this piece! ~ Kelley

[Wolfwind]

If time were a living spirit, caged within the cogs and springs of a clock. These words would be his ire view huminity. While the meaning could be linked to many things in life, such as romance, and relations. I felt that with the image you placed with it. The meaning hold much more energy for me if I view it more surealistically.

Wondering Ink!
Wolfwind