Imperfection

The human race unknowingly suffers -
Not for the want of rhyme or word
But for the want of un-thought truth.
For a working brain adulterates its form
and carves it into a beautiful elegant lie
Like the wheel that turns clay to a vase.
The world that exaggerates beauty
Clamors over pots and cares not for clay.
An Incident retold becomes a fable
After a hundred lips have had their glory
An epic is born - glamorously perfect
And of humans : Heroes and Villains made.