For torch

Perfect
by Sarah
Only God can make the perfect.
The weavers knew this
And each rug had a flaw
A mistake
A weakness.
Because only God can make the perfect.
 
Once I was perfect.
Old men made me
Bred me
Bone and blood.
The perfect tool.
They thought they were God.
 
I was honed to a razor's edge;
I walked in the shadows
And never left a trace.
I did their bidding with never a fault.
I was perfect and cold as ice.
No one is perfect.
I studied him as I was bid.
I knew him inside and out.
Every move he made
His fears and desires
Nothing was secret to me.
My flaw lay deep and hidden.
Didn't they realize what they had done?
I was fashioned for him alone
He is my weakness,
My Persian flaw --
He shattered me.
The old men never realized what they had wrought.
 
I am lost and alone
Cut off from all I once knew.
Still in the shadows,
My faults made flesh and bone
Visible to all.
Only God can make the perfect.
And God had no hand in making me.