Perfection is overrated, our flaws define
Us in ways we’d see not without others
To observe, their patience a mirrored
Reflection, pool to absorb the ripples
Of our manifold inherent madness.
Rides rarely slow for us to take stock,
Our surroundings fast paced, lived
Through lenses tinted at times sped
Past limits of experience to confound,
Made simple by flawed reflections.