i looked up at that perfect man
his long golden hair
his fair and flawless face
his beautiful mustache
he had such grace
he had such grace

i felt his more than perfect arms
so slender yet strong
his fine and faultless hands
the right one wore a silver ring
and gave imperious commands
and gave commands

so sure he seemed
so together and complete
like no man i've ever known
i was dazzled
i was thrown by his strong
persuasive style
and his sweet
self-centered smile

i looked up at that perfect man
and everything came clear
we're not what we appear
perfection is the lie
that covers up the fear
we unsuccessfully try
to hide away

and not once did i cheat
and look down at his feet
knowing they would be grey
and they
would be
made of
clay
The Perfect Man