Perfect People


You know the kind,
The ones who don’t drink,
Who sit behind their desks on the brink,
Who only ever think,
Safety nets and money mattresses,
Yes,
You know the kind,
Those who’ve never lived a day,
But talk of life
Because, they’ve something to say,
You know the kind,
That die when they’re eighty-one,
Leaving behind a loving wife, and a bitter son,
You know the kind,
That try to convert you.

© Fionn Kelvin Thomas 2019

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