People are like puzzles,
they can be broken down until you can see
their every softened edge and each jagged curve,
picked apart by a bored mind
and much too keen eyes.
No one is perfect,
everyone has done something wrong
and something right.
They have fears and doubts,
and passion and belief and courage.
And you like that.
It makes sense.
Yes, it is complicated,
they are complicated,
but that their imperfections are what make them perfect,
and it is beautiful.
Everyone, because of all of their complexities and simplicities,
make perfect sense.
So why is it,
that when you can look at someone
and can figure out their very reason of being there,
and you can know them better than they have ever known themselves,
why is it,
that when you look into a mirror,
you can never understand the one person
who's always staring back?
YOU ARE READING
lightning
Poetry"flashes of lightning they light up the hills visible only for a moment briefly beautiful before being engulfed once again by the storm" _ poetry book
