Ode to False Perfection

OMG, Mr. Perfect has arrived, with exquisite Ms. Ideal, there by his side,

See how they stand, such perfect poise,

No sound of dissent, not one single noise.

They sashay cross the floor, in symphonic stride,

A nod here, a smile there, as they greet false fans,

While waving their sanctimonious hands.

As if in review, no hair out of place,

All lessor beings must bow low to their stature,

Hiding the fact, that we all see the fracture.

As I turn to observer their opposite face,

Glaring vision attacked my eyes,

I’ve never imaged pants with rear flys.

A chuckle I buried, if just to save face,

Mr. Perfect waddled, bowed legs were a sight,

Ms. Ideal no better, her brown trail a blight,

As they pranced toward the door, in regal fashion,

I thought to myself, my sins are no greater,

Then those who would judge to call me a hater.

So I say unto those who wish to cash in,

Keep your nose to the sky,

Kiss my ass, that’s my passion.

*This one is stupid but fun to play with – I’m learning to add humor.

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