the paradox

a painting casts a spell,
a feeling to feel eternally,
the trigger is pulled,
the bullet is thrown,
opening up like a grappling steel,
hooked in your chest
burrowing deep,
permanent as the ink on my skin,
everlasting memory,
they stare and baulk,
did you know you have that forever?
skin deep for all to see
did you know you made this on me?
a painting on display
a poem to read
the interpretation of a dream
did you know you bear the responsibility?
I am the one that holds the pen
the needle and the ink
I am the one that holds the gun
to shoot your idea into pieces
I am not the robot,
I am not the epitome of perfection,
not artificial intelligence,
not a printer following code,
I am the one who wields the machine
try as hard as i might,
your pressure oversight,
bearing down on me,
watch my breath hold,
as i encourage you to breathe,
watch my hands shake,
as i encourage you to be at ease,
I cannot control everything.
I cannot stop you from moving
if you jump, God help us,
if you ill explain, I misunderstand,
please, relieve me
of these false epitomes,
the expectations of greatness,
the expectations of excellence
you’re the artist, they say,
know better
God bring me the people
who see through me
who knows I wear my faults like anklets
dragging behind me in chains
the ones who come to me with no expectation
God bring me the ones
who forgive my misprints,
for I am but a human
God bring me the ones
who know perfection isn’t real
because i would rather fail and fail again
that perform perfectly everyday