The unease of a lifetime

Begins like a trifle

The lament of the grieved

Comes with the unperfected

But ranting of the unsatisfied

Could be stifled with a joke

Life finds us complicating

When we’re full of junk

Perfect life we forever seek

We try our best in vain

The fantasy with time fade

It has always been faked

As mother wit finds a way

Follies must be tossed away

Then we see all in state

As imperfect as can be

There we feel content

‘Cos life’s how it should be

As typical as it should be

Imperfect but normal

©Florence Ezekafor