Yes, nobody is perfect. But if we believe in life, it just makes it, our kind of perfect.
How I looked, what I spoke, what I wished to be
Was never a concern at the age of three.
Yes, we all become sensible and gain control
Of our lives, we make an aim, we mark a goal.
But even after it’s all set and done
We feel something’s imperfect, something’s yet undone.
An unachieved target, an unaccomplished desire
We try to give more of our soul, we aspire.
We make the ladder steep in the ambition to reach a higher mark
At times we fall acutely, yet we wish to go far even if it’s dark.
But the reality we fail to see is
That we’ve almost lost the ‘being oneself’ bliss.
We lose the touch of our little imperfect souls to become better
We lose the current us to be another go getter.
How would it be to remain who I am and yet achieve a new dream
How good would it be if life was no race, but a relishing ice-cream.
At times it’s all very sweet and delicious the way we want
And sometimes it’s bitter and sour, yet we gulp to flaunt.
To embrace imperfections is beauty in itself
Then why lurk and hide oneself to find another self?
Let yourself out, let yourself free
That wish to reach the sky will now be no fee.
Be the original you again and see
How bright the way is and how gradual the ladder be.