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.