That Perfect Day

by mmm4h

July 15, 2015

I was sitting on the beach

Reading my book so very peacefully

And I just thought to myself “What a Perfect Day.”

The sun was seeping into my bones

I had a smile on my face

I couldn’t stop thinking “What a Perfect Day.”

Life all around me was happy

The children were laughing

The parents were smiling and I thought “What a perfect Day.”

The ocean was inviting swimmers in

The sand soft beneath my feet

The warm breeze across my face

The sun bronzing my skin

I stopped and looked at the sky saying “What a perfect Day.”

~Life is awesome and always better when you’re down the shore~

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Comments (1)

AllahuCenaJul 15, 2015

It's funny, perfection (happiness itself even) is such an intangible and subjective idea. With the extent of the balloons-headedness of this "poem," I expect the joy of her perfection was similar to the joy of the Enola Gay flight crew. Wearing sandals made in Vietnamese sweat shops, playing on a phone made in suicide-proofed Chinese factories, she stood as a monolith of bourgeoisie excess, and wrote a sub-par poem to brag of her vapidity. I hope the writer understands that she stole a father from his children, because after reading this I decided I'm done with this world. Welp, the noose is finished, AllahuCena out.