The Poetry of Daniel Harrison

The Perfect Ones

Don’t tell me when obsession turns to apathy
Just slip away my listless little thing
Then let me hide alone inside that tragedy
Mean as winter, uninspired by spring

Did you find me handy? Did you find me slick?
Was their another poor sucker that you might have picked?
I know I’m wise enough and that I’m half to blame
But now I’m out of breath… and I’m weary of this game

Don’t let me block the exits to reality
Let these mean streets cater to your pain
Go spend another cent of your vitality
Discharging daily, curling down the drain

Do you find me stupid, do you think I‘m weak?
You know you could be right but I’m on my feet
I get up every day to push against the cold
But now the flame is low… and I fear I’m growing old

Don’t think that I am thriving in your aftermath
I know you’ve lost my number and my name
You seek your perfect ones out on the wider path
But perfect ones are seekers just the same

Does it make you happy, does it make you sick?
Now that you’re black and blue because another bad trick
Got his temper up and brought his hammer down
And I could save you now… but you haven’t made a sound

Don’t tell me when aggression turns to sympathy
Just slip away my listless little thing
Let me cry alone in my own company
Mean as winter, uninspired by spring



[Jan 3, 2008]