Execution Imperfection

Execution Imperfection

The english master sits down to craft
Ink bottle in he dips
A pen he once saved to purchase

He withdraws and enscribes
Words of wisdom
From his mind

He paints pictures with phrases
Values with black liquid
And images that daze

Into the night his passion toils
He loves it so
And yet it’s turmoil

When he reveals to the world
His design so grand
He is unhappy with the finished plan

Others are beweildered
At the fine quality of his work
But he scorns its imperfections

He only sees the blotted ink
The scrapes and the cracks
When he’s in public he bears not it

Can’t stand to witness everyone
Looking at and loving all of
That which he sees only the worst in

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