These flawed beings
Set the bar for other flawed beings,
Perpetrating mistakes on which to gauge
Perfection, that human construct
Exclusive to mortals with the right criteria.
We fabricate dreams,
Swimming in spurious ponds of excellence
To allude our own uncertainty.
Nothing is ever perfect we say,
So we strive for nothing.
Yet nothing becomes everything.
Still there is nothing to gain
And everything to lose.