Object to Achieve Perfection

By Colin

I wish I had a soul,

One formidable goal,

To depend on and feel,

Rather then just repeated zeal,

I see a smile,

But its not gonna last a long while,

There in me is something thing wrong,

But fakeness brings a song,

That I write in attempted help,

For a soul to develop,

But I need encouragement and substance,

Instead sharp stabbing lance,

Thrust into my chest,

My black stained blood appears on my vest.

I see the inert of my heart,

All black a clotted puss filled wart,

It's repulsive and gross,

I only wish that I didn't break another dish,

Resembling another so fragile,

Broken by my guile.

Dead all the while I see the poisoned vile,

Threatening my existence,

Deposing my positions,

But I've prevailed,

And to another I hail,

But no reprimand,

Still untouched and still so grand,

Like a coveted trophy in a case,

I yearn for a sweet embrace,

Of one so sweet and so dear,

Finally a voice in the dark I hear

To guide me from a track to a road,

And regardless of my mode,

They will send me greetings

And endless meetings

And with a happy heart

And a warming part,

We say goodbye in a nice way,

Seeing each other everyday,

Joking at what we say,

I hear a laugh so sweet and nice,

One that is thrice,

Of what I could hear in music,

That I'd prefer to choose it

That to hear them would be of a better sound,

one that tremours the ground.

And endless nameless its remains but ...

... All my whole day it pains me to hold her back,

Never letting her go from the track

Of destiny's vigour,

And my figure,

Distorted and disjointed,

Strange and anointed

By death and destruction

I wave a flag of eruption

At every breath,

All die and my hands blood set,

But in a meaning,

I found gleaming,

A shimmer,

A glimmer of hope,

From a rope hanging from your brow,

I climbed to see how and why it was you that noticed,

You that roasted

My heart till it melted,

Still it wilted

Through in an autumn of withering,

Considering,

Pain at my hands I suffered,

No one that had me buffered,

I received all looks so strange,

Never having to rearing ether faces at all,

Now I fall,

Into oblivion and intuition fails,

Mindless boggles,

Choked by scouts woggles,

Tying a handkerchief loose around my neck

I struggle in feck

-ing hopeless moves I am caught,

In my own misery, I am distraught,

In my own glimmery, failing at my best,

Falling below the rest,

I've lost,

I've cost

And I've rusted my being into a wholly metallic object sharp,

Like a corpse

Teeth grinding to the bone,

All alone.