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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!"