Perfect Human

Henry Crown Ford

Compositor: Henry Crown Ford

This is one night.
Another one of those cold, bitter nights.
And that is a desire.
Another one of those unrealized.

And this, this is me.
An imperfect human, trying to fly,
But that the wind blows away,
Far, far, far away.

The rose petals, this garden,
No longer sing over the sound of that scent
Which is life like for our nostrils.
The defect has eroded
As caustic soda,
All my memories.

Please spend at least one second,
Without criticizing my way of life.
If I cut my pain into a thousand pieces,
You can not judge me.
I'm not a perfect humando like robots.



How long should I live in the shadow of the perfect human?
I'm not quite like that?
If you knew how much, how much I ask god for
Your life. Maybe would not hurt me so
Painfully more than a blade.
But, well, I'm not a perfect human
As those robots.