Perfection doesn't always last.
We may wish it did,
but that's not how life works.
It's like a wick burning outside.
So luminescent,
so pure.
As life goes on,
the winds pick up,
unexpected changes occur.
Might go out,
might not.
Just Depends how strong it is.

Critically Analytic

We’ve been reading too many books

lately. Blatantly, not trying to create

recently. Evidently, we’ve been letting others

absurdly run the story of you and me

in trying to be, when we already are,

freely entrapped within our own systems,

circles, and propriety of competition amongst society.

You can blame society,
but it’s simply you and me
in relation.
You and me, and him and her and them and us.

We’re in this together, now.
Each infinitesimal drop of murky water,
forming, ostensibly, the flood. Not one splash feels
the responsibility,

consequently we blame, and

haughtily criticize, rationalizing it
in our minds.

Lazily, we evaluate others stories, finding frailties,
unaware of the intricately subtle reflection of our own

-Ryan K. Fuller

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm one to promote the independent explanation of poems.

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Remnants of human inferiority

The ignorance of the new race
would be hope for the old;
Though the souls of those who transferred
were rewritten and corrupted by the program,
some things always remain, as what perfection can be obtained
by a race that never was?

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Too Imperfect For You


I wanted to be your angel

Your princess your own

image of perfection

But how I tried

You never liked me – your

own form of deflection


Bending me to your will

I would have done anything

to be perfect for you

But nothings perfect

You above all others

should know it’s true



Written on

March 12, 2006 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was another writen to Steve. I always felt way too imperfect for him. Maybe thats why we arent together any more.

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