Deliver me not from this world of 'perfection', allow me to withstand this realm of rejection;

and let me listen to the cries of sorrow, so that I will be able to tolerate tomorrow.

Here I stand with the world at my level, but the voice of failure is the voice of the devil;

and I still don't know when it will crash around me, just that I will seek shelter under the maple tree.

Tonight I wonder about your basement flooding with lies, pondering the time of which one of you dies;

and when you perish, remember to cherish,

your life,

your love,

and all that's above.