Imperfect


I feel pitiful.   
I feel pitiful.   
I feel small.   
I feel trapped                 
                     within a dark niche,                                      
                                                     in a rundown wall.   
I feel lacking.   
I feel wanting.   
I feel unwhole.          
         Unwhole.                   

                        But I bear it all                                   
                                                with patience,                      
                              I bear it all.
                              I bear it all.                                     
                                                After all,     
        it is just the simple life                               
                                            taking                                     
                                                       its toll.