Am I perfect now?

I'm bringing out all of my tools;

The scissors needle and the thread 

The tape, the stapler, the glue 

I lay them out upon my bed.

I take the needle and the thread 

And on my lips I feel a prick 

I stitch and sow them quick and slow

And finally I make them stick.

I take the glue and close my eyes,

Upon the lids I paint it fair 

I open them and I don't blink 

All I can do now is just stare.

I take the stapler, load the barrel 

Pull at the corners of my mouth 

Tap the trigger, shoot the bullets

My grin no longer facing south.

I take the tape and mask my ailments

Stick it all over skin and scar 

Hide all my little imperfections 

And I have now become a star

My skin is pure, my sound so silent

I speak no ill, voice no complaint

My lips - they're tightly stitched together 

Now don't I seem like quite the saint?

I look aware and quite alive 

My eyes are open wide and free

My mouth is permanently in a smile

How much more perfect could I be?