Perfection

You there. What is it about me that you hate?
Tell me. What piece do I appear to be missing?

Sometimes I realize I'm not quite as tall as I thought.
And my shirt is a bit more faded than I'd remembered.

Listen. It's okay because I already know I fall short.
Alright? We don't have to carry on with courtesies.

I chase these long beams of sunlight to fill emptiness.
But light fills nothing and reveals everything.

You there. What do you see that you would change?
Tell me. Where is the damage that needs fixed?

It's fair to presume foolish arrogance is chief.
Because for a moment I was convinced of it.

Pressed Back

There is a foot pressing into my lower back.
And fingers spread across my chest pushing my path back;
pushing my path back.

The time is very close and it feels like I should go.
Close but not yet, no, it's still not time to go;
still not time to go.

But I can count the days until it is my turn.
Waiting for the air to chill and for the leaves to turn;
for the leaves to turn.

Better not fall down these steps balancing on my heels.
With my toes over the edge and a determination that heals;
determination that heals.

There is a foot pressing into my lower back.
And fingers spread across my chest pushing my path back;
pushing my path back.

Turn the Page

I've read this page a thousand times.
It's about time I turn it.
But I go back and read it again.
Paragraph by paragraph.
Line by line.
Word by word.
Letter by letter.
I so want to turn the page.
But I'm being told to read it one more time.