Yes, I'm disturbed
This much is true
But the question is
How much more
Am I than you?
The problem we have
Is opinion you see
You call me sick
Though I think it's you
Not me
True, my thoughts, fleeting at best
And my conscience won't sleep
Through a tortured nights rest
My heart does bleed
For the innocent and meek
And my soul prays for peace
Everyday of the week
But I'd rather live
the way that I do
Than to be cold-hearted,
Unfeeling,
And perfect like you
Matt Mondschein
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perfect-people/
