You shake it but then
You want it to be still
You empty it but then
You wish it to be filled
You doodle on the paper
Then wish it was clean
You show it off to everyone
But it's worse when it's seen
You blurr it but then
You wish it was clear
You kill it but then
You want it near
You tire it out
Then wish it was strong
You cut it all up
Then wish it were long
You break it but then
You despise the crack
You move ahead
But then wish to go back
You ruin the perfect
But then it's too flawed
Only then do you see
Perfect is of God

 
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