the world of perfection. inescapable.
little girl grew, running from it.

before long,
she began living her own little world,
idealising pieces of imperfections
to compose a complete grandeur design.

'how perfect' she says.

before long,
little girl finds her joy,
playing boom boom car,
bumping one trial to another error.

before long,
she finds herself in a merry-go-round
getting numb from spinning so fast between dissapointments.
drained energy, helplessly going round and around.

before long,
not even her strongest grip can bare anymore.
like an egg shell, she cracks.
the inevitable fall of humpty dumpty.

before long,
she re-invent her world as she turns into a woman.
she draw herself a straight line, wishing to be wiser.
refining the ideals.

'i wont let the bridge to fall,' she says, 'i want to live unregrettably'

before long,
intricate planning and tons of endless leggo,
stored in time, waiting to be placed
by overwhelming delicate ego.

before long,
a woman living comfortably,
in her own perfect idealised world.
peacing her leggo blogs: pieces by pieces.

'such perfection, only means longer time for confidence to grow,' she says to herself, 'live not to regret.'

before long,
a woman realises the desire
of that gentle homing stroke,
to her ancient untouchable ego.

before long,
a woman forsee the collapse of the bridge
in the probable past to repeat itself,
sending her offsprings away..
running from her so called, 'idealised perfect world.'