Fatal flaws

There’s none of us perfect

we all have something wrong

us humans

The supermarket lady

asks me if the banana is up to standard

with that ugly black mark

We all have at least one of those

on the outside

or the inside

that never fails to disappoint

in a crisis

I got eyes that can’t see colour

as others do

while she got the ability

to play music with her ears

and someone else’s heart

before the old one got broken

by a boy called Jimmy

and some unwanted genes

from the man with the braces

and the big smile

I got the temper

with cigarettes and obession

about all the gold diggers

and words not to use

in public

or privately

Perfect.

 

© Ash Cheyne – September 2018

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