Perfection At Its Finest

Perfection At Its Finest

A Poem by ashleydawn

I'm a perfected mess
refined in such a way
that its almost beauty.
Simplicity at its finest,
I dance along the path,
anticipating the turns
before they show
and although fearing the end constantly
I blissfully prance
through every experience.
The routine, almost mundane
with its constant occurance. 

© 2011 ashleydawn


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Added on August 16, 2011
Last Updated on August 16, 2011

Author

ashleydawn
ashleydawn

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