Imperfect

"Imperfect, imperfect!"
Wailed those black-coated men.
"Unbeautiful, unbeautiful!"
Those stone faces screeched.
Funeral memoirs emblazoned along
Their dusty, crooked cheeks.

All hear the unsounding music
That emits from metallic vocals.

Blemishes and birthmarks don't fit his taste -
He wants it smooth,
Like a newborn's frail skin. Unwrinkled.
Undiseased.

Like baby-skin, like baby-skin,
But we're all grown up.

It was in my head all day and night,
Wailing, "Imperfect, imperfect!"