Perfection

the inability to understand
the hardness of comprehending

the absent of beautiful child in arms
the absent of handsome amour by side
the lost of love again and again
the futile resistance of coming of age

loneliness inside full crowd
uttering empty laughs
sad and bitter smiles
frustration following frustration

at that very time try remembering
the eyes that can see
the chance of living long time dream
the ability to compose words

should all of that be enough?
why should one ask more?
why should one ask for perfection?
is it one's greed? is it one's ambition?

always and always asking for perfection
but what for, really?
do one really need perfection?

one simply cannot be perfect if imperfection still deeply intact in one's bosom
but then again what is perfection?
what is perfection in these eyes of me, an imperfect being?