Imperfect.

Funny how the world is,

Everyone imperfect,

But sometimes we can't seem to see,

We're just as flawed as the person beside.

We know, we know,

That we do wrongs,

But when words flow,

Suddenly we know it all,

Acting as if the other,

Is the sole offender,

In a heated argument,

That takes two to start.

I wonder if I spoke too much?

Silence, silence,

Is a virtue,

Time to rewind,

Relive the quiet times.

Why have I been so easily triggered these days,

Over petty things that have no right nor wrong,

Relationships are still more important,

Than emerging victorious in a battle of words.

I wonder still, was it just me to blame,

And what about the other?

Is it not because we are all imperfect people?