“Why did they hit you? ”
Well, the sun would come up.
“No, your parents,
Why did they hit you? ”
Well, I wasn’t perfect.
I’d say the wrong thing,
I’d do the wrong thing,
I’d wear the wrong thing,
I’d think the wrong thing,
I wasn’t perfect.
“You mean to say, to tell to me,
that you were beaten through and through,
because you are not Perfect? ? ”
No, the way I always saw it
I was always beaten because
The sun came up.
Sandra Osborne
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perfect/
