Friday, June 11, 2010

Perfectly Perfect

Sometimes, I feel like a spent force...

It is tire trying to be perfect in everything I do
Perfection is no more a skill but an art
I dance to the demands of being politically correct and  a perfect gentleman
For most times, I top the act but there are times when willows break its branches too

I try to ace my results and sparkle like fireworks
But, the only similarities with firework is my best is as short as the fireworks that light up the sky

I give in, I help others and I tolerate the mean and devious
I resist fighting back, I bow low to abuse and I swallow my pride
I will not fight any losing battle; I fight to win
When I am weak and unsure, I retreat and hide in the cocoon

All my punches are rare but lethal and every punch must deliver the deadliest blow
When I retreat and allow indulgence, I am not weak
I know when I react, every enemy will be...DEAD

I am the perfectionist

You can take advantage of me and walk over my dead body
But, when its my turn to strike, you will be done and over... before you even know

Don't antagonise the Perfectly Perfect

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