shirts are pressed and spiffed before appearances
children are symmetrical to those they stand by
their hair in the same style
voices are monotonous
a dull hum of insignificant chatter
teeth are white and straight
each being toned to perfection
but with an eye for detail
you could find a spark
a crooked tooth
a pink bow
in a curly mop of hair
a cackle of laughter
that wasn’t smothered
a dance
an embarrassment
a care
a wish
a voice
a hammer
that crashes the mold
small acts of defiance
committed in the subconscious
though from my satellite
you would see
there is no self
only a lust for perfection
we are a piece of gold tainted with priceless faults
where are you now?