imperfection

the words dont come out right
everythings all twisted  up, tangled, confused.
retreat to within, to the calm insanity thats always a constant.
let the world pass by in its chaotic saneness.
nothings concrete, nothing makes sense
this life is just to be lived.
i feel caged
trapped within a shell made of dead end decisions.
why is nothing constant?
no one listens to the song of others
no one takes the time to listen, to think, to help.
this world is filled to the brim with pain, with cruelty, blood.
retreat to the inside where the calme insanity rules
where it all makes sense
to the world of pretend
where everything's perfect.
but..nothings perfect.
it all happens for a reason
perfection is, in and of itself, imperfection.