Roman

Perfection Schism

Going up you can't no way 
Win without the losers' play
Walk atop the finest line
Cut your feet on other spines

Made of knots and foregone thoughts 
No more wailing ailing oughts
More to point is snoring pain 
Dreamy steamy boring rain 

Align your mind and ride the wave 
So long as you can't see the blade 
Doing what it always does 
Demanding why but just because