in the city of K.
everyone craves perfection.
it is where my life took place
just to end.
my story is short,
filled with seclusion and tormenting.
i remember each stone that was thrown
at my paunchy, grotesque head.
every tI'me the people of K. looked my way,
they forgot about their own problems and flaws
and only saw my squat self.
i have to say I'm happy to have helped them
before the final stone bruised my brain,
knocking my to my knees,
bringing me to death.
I'm glad to have been spit on and brutalized,
because for those short minutes they saw me,
the flaws they saw within themselves were gone,
they didn't worry if they were short,
because i was,
they didn't worry if they were fat,
because i was,
they didn't worry their hair, nose, or teeth,
because mine were worse.
those poor people of K.,
i can only wonder how they feel now.
not because they should feel guilt from killing me,
but because I'm no longer there to compare,
only other perfect people.
oh poor city of K.
why do you not see
the beauty within you
because you are perfect but all i see within you is me.