ON BEAUTY AND PERFECTION
WHAT IS PERFECTION? DO WE DEFINE PERFECTION, OR DOES PERFECTION DEFINE US? IS PERFECTION BEAUTY, OR IS BEAUTY REALLY ANYTHING AT ALL? TO ME, THESE ARE NORMAL, EVERYDAY QUESTIONS. BUT IS THERE REALLY AN ANSWER TO ANY OF THEM?
PERFECTION IS EXCELLENCE, OR FAULTLESSNESS. IF YOU ARE PERFECT, YOU ARE TOTALLY INCAPABLE OF DOING ANY WRONG. IT IS SAID THAT NO HUMAN CAN EVER BE PERFECT. YOU CAN STRIVE FOR EXCELLENCE, BUT NO MATTER HOW CLOSE YOU MAY COME, YOU WILL NEVER QUITE GET THERE. THIS MAKES SENSE. PERFECTION IS AN EXTREAMLY HARD THING TO COME BY. IT IS NOT EVERY DAY THAT THE TRUE DEFFINITION OF PERFECTION IS REALLY DEFINED. EVEN OUR MODERN TECHNOLOGY, IN ALL ITS DEMENSIONS NEVER HAS, NOR WILL IT EVER BE, FAULTLESS.
WE HAVE GIVEN THE WORD 'PERFECTION' IT MEANING. ONE COULD SAY, WE HAVE DEFINED PERFECTION. ONE COULD ALSO SAY, THAT BECAUSE OF OUR RIVALRY WITH PERFECTION, AND OUR CONSTANT BATTLE TO BE PERFECT, THAT PERFECTION DEFINES US. SO DO WE DEFINE PERFECTION, OR DOES PERFECTION DEFINE US? HOWEVER, DO WE REALLY KNOW PERFECTION? HAVE WE EVER REALLY WHITNESSED PERFECTION FIRSTHAND? WE MAY HEAR OF THE GREATNESS OF PERFECTION, BUT IT IS POSSIBLE THAT WE HAVE NEVER TRULY SEEN IT. TO SOME, PERFECTION, AND THE NEED TO BE PERFECT, INCOMPASSES THEIR ENTIRE BEING. MANY LIVE THEIR LIVES STRIVING TO BE AS PERFECT AS THEY POSSIBLY CAN BE. BUT WILL PERFECTION EVER REALLY BE REACHED?
BEAUTY ALSO SEEMS TO BE SOMETHING WE LIVE TO BE. SOMETHING WE LIVE TO DEFINE. IS THERE REALLY A DEFINITION OF BEAUTY? IS BEAUTY DEFINED BY THE MASSES, OR THE INDIVIDUAL? DOES THE INDIVIDUAL REALLY CREATE THEIR OWN DEFINITION OF BEAUTY, OR DO THEY LEAVE IT UP TO THEIR PEERS TO DEFINE IT FOR THEM? THERE ARE FEW PEOPLE WHO WOULD REALLY SAY THAT A LARGE WOMAN IS BEAUTIFUL. POSSIBLY, THIS IS BECAUSE SOCIETY HAS DEFINED BEAUTY THIS WAY. IF SKINNY IS IN, SKINNY IS WHAT EVERYONE STRIVES TO BE. IF LARGE WAS WHAT WAS ACCEPTED, THERE WOULD BE NO NEED FOR DIETING.
IF BEAUTY REALLY WAS PERSONAL PREFERANCE, IF NO ONE REALLY RELIED ON SOMEONE ELES TO DEFINE BEAUTY FOR THEM, THEN IT WOULD BE POSSIBLE THAT BEAUTY WOULD HAVE NO REAL DEFINITION, BECAUSE IT WOULD HOLD A DIFFERENT MEANING FOR EVERY PERSON. BUT IN OUR SOCIETY, THAT IS NOT SO. IN OUR SOCIETY, BEAUTY IS DEFINED BY EVERYONE AROUND US, AND, JUST LIKE PERFECTION, BEAUTY IS SOMETHING WE LOOK UP TO. SOMETHING IDEALISTIC, THAT WE SPEND OUR ENTIRE LIVES TRYING TO BE. IN OUR SOCIETY, BEAUTY AND PERFECTION GO HAND-IN-HAND. IN OUR SOCIETY, THEY ARE THE SAME THING. ONE MIGHT SAY, THAT OUR SOCIETY HAS AN ODD AND OFTEN DISTORTED VIEW ON WHAT BEAUTY AND PERFECTION REALLY ARE.
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THE PERSON YOU NEVER KNEW
I SPENT EIGHT YEARS WITH THE KID, BUT KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HIM. THE KID WHO NEVER SMILED, THE KID WHO NEVER LAUGHED, THE KID WHO NEVER SAID ANYTHING AT ALL.
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? I LOOK BACK NOW, THREE YEARS LATER, AND CANT SEEM TO FIND ANY SORT OF ANSWER AT ALL. HOW IS IT THAT WE SPEND MOST OF OUR CHILDHOOD WITH A PERSON, AND HAVE NO REAL MEMORIES OF THEM? THAT THEY HAVE NO SIGNIFICANCE IN OUR LIVES? THAT WE REMAIN UNTOUCHED BY THEIR EVER LURKING PRESENCE? IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE, IT SEEMS - WRONG.
IT MAKES ME WONDER HOW MANY PEOPLE WILL REMEMBER ME, EIGHT YEARS FORM NOW. WHEN THEY HAVE FAMILIES, AND PRIORITIES, AND STEADY OCCUPATIONS. WILL THEY REMEMBER THE GIRL WHO HATED EVERYONE? THE GIRL WHO ALWAYS SEEMED UNHAPPY? THE GIRL WHO WANTED TO BLOW UP THE SUN? OR WILL THEY REMEMBER SOMEONE LESS FRAGILE? THE ARTIST? THE SINGER? THE GIRL WHO WROTE WIERD POETRY? OR WILL THEY REMEMBER AT ALL? BUT THEY DONT KNOW THIS GIRL ANYWAYS. NO, THEY DONT KNOW ME AT ALL. AND EVEN IF THEY DID, WHAT WOULD THEY HAVE TO SAY? 'OH YA, SHE WAS, AH-DIFFERENT.' OR, 'WELL, I DIDNT REALLY HANG AROUND HER MUCH, SHE WAS REALLY ANTISOCIAL,BUT I GUESS SHE WAS NICE.'
NO,IM NOT THE TYPE OF PERSON PEOPLE GET TO KNOW. MOST PEOPLE DONT HAVE ENOUGH EDUCATED CONCIOUS THOUGHT TO COMPREHEND WHAT IM SAYING HALF THE TIME ANYWAY. BUT WHAT AM I REALLY SAYING? THAT LIFES NOT WORTH LIVING? THAT I HATE BEING HERE? THAT I HATE ALL OF HUMANITY? SOMETIMES IT SEEMS THAT WAY, BUT IN A RIGHT STATE OF MIND, NO ONE THINKS THAT WAY. BUT WHO SAYS IM EVER IN THE RIGHT STATE OF MIND?
NO ONE. YOU DONT HAVE TO KNOW ME TO KNOW THAT.
SO WHAT DO WE KNOW ABOUT PEOPLE? THE PEOPLE WE LOVE? THE PEOPLE WE PASS JUDGEMENT ON? HOW CAN WE BE CERTIN THAT POEPLE REALLY ARE WHAT WE PRECIEVE THEM TO BE? WE CANT. UNTIL SOMEONE INVENTS SOME WONDEROUS AND MAGICAL MACHIENE TO ANALIZE EVEN THE MOST COMPLEX OF PERSON, WE MAY NEVER KNOW. BUT WE CANT LET THAT STOP US FROM 'GETTING TO KNOW PEOPLE' OR 'MAKING FRIENDS' AND CASUALLY BEING STABBED IN THE BACK BY A PERSON, CAN WE? LIFE WOULD BE TO EASY, IF WE JUST IGNORED EVERYONE WE COULDNT TRUST, OR AT LEAST, IT WOULD BE VERY LOANLY.
SO AS YOU VENTURE OFF TO SCHOOL, WORK, OR THE SHOPPING MALL TOMORROW, THINK ABOUT EVERY PERSON YOU MEET AND HOW DIFFERENT THEY CAN BE, MAYBE THEN, YOU'LL FIND IT EASIER TO ACCEPT SOMEONE LIKE ME.
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BLEED
plaster hears and broken bones, are all you have to show, leaky faucets, window pains, and those you did not know. Crimes committed by those you loved, Those you thought would care,
Despondant thoughts of situations,
Those you cannot bare.
Times when you were torn apart,
You thought they were in need,
You carry them through all their pain,
They torture you 'till you bleed.
You wait for life to pass you by,
Find comfort in the rain,
Even though you feel nothing,
Your inside their trap again.
Don't think you need them for a seconed,
Their useless and their stail,
Their mouths are filled with blasphemy,
Their darkness is too pale.
BLAME
<1> I dontreally feel wanted anywhere, I dontreally feel wanted, and I dontcare. Im so jealous of the world today, No one has anything nice to say. Im so jealous of the world today.
<2>
You can play your little blame game,
You will fight, and you will win,
you'll never give up anything,
Never admit to sin.
you'll never admit to sin.
<3>
<4>
And your pushing me around today,
Why must you pick on me this way?
Your anger you will blame on me,
What is this hipocracy?
<5>
<6>
Nothing ever stayes the same,
Everthing is filled with blame.
You will not take over me,
All my tears washed out to sea.
SUBMIT YOUR WORK
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WONT LEAVE ME ALONE
IF YOU PISS ME OFF ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR I'LL BREAK YOUR NECK, YOU STAND THERE AS IF YOUR DEVINE, BUT YOU'RE A NERVOUS WRECK.
WHY DO I ALWAYS INSIST ON WRITING DOWN,
ANY RHYME THAT COMES INTO MY HEAD?
BECAUSE THE WORLD WONT LEAVE ME ALONE,
SO I WRITE IT DOWN INSTEAD.
I LOOK AT YOU, BUT YOUR OUT OF FOCUS,
I SEE YOU, BUT YOUR OUT OF MIND,
YOU COULD NEVER POSSIBLY SEE ME,
BECAUSE YOUR TOO BLIND.
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HIGH HOPES
YOUR BOYFRIEND'S ALL YOU'VE GOT, YOU SIT THERE AND WATCH ME ROT. YOU DON'T CARE, AND WHY SHOULD YOU? IT'S MY LIFE, AND THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO. GENTLY KILLING ME, ROCKING ME TO SLEEP,
LYING DEAD IN A TANGLED DISTORTED HEAP.
HIGH HOPES, EXPECTATIONS LOW,
YOUR LOVE WILL SURLY GROW AND GROW.
AND YOU LEAVE ME HERE, TO BREATH MY LAST BREATH,
AS I CURL UP, AND ANXIOUSLY AWAIT MY DEATH.
THIS TIME, I DIDN'T DESERVE A THING,
WHAT IS THIS HOPELESSNESS THAT YOU BRING?
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