Without One Scar

Aspiring to be picturesque,
A photo of perfection that imagination projects,
Comparatively lacking to what others are,
Damaged by standard, hidden scars,

Spasmodically drifting,
From bad to worse,
Things may go fine,
For a while,
A curse,
Life will always bring something tomorrow,
A paramedic of expectations leading to sorrow.

A maze of temptation,
Our goal is to be happy,
Because the natural state of our lives,
Is not sweet and sappy,
Robots driven by emotion,
We strive for contentment,
Yet when other people achieve it,
We cast our resentment.

Horribly predictable,
So we are,
We have no free will,
And end up at the bar,
Unhappiness is the natural state,
Jealousy, sadness, corruption, and hate.

We do what we can,
To stay above water,
Some of us fall,
Our hearts and souls slaughtered,

Some of us rise,
Up and above,
Yet it’s a constant struggle,
To not trudge through the mud.

Life is a battle,
That we fight alone,
Not another can help,
Not love to be shown.

Spasmodically drifting,
From bad to worse,
Things will go fine,
But you’ll end up in a hurse.

So strive to be better,
Than who you are,
Not a perfect model,
Without one single scar.

Spasmodically drift,
With consistant revolve,
Throughout life alone,
As relations revolve.

Votes and Comments are always more than welcome :)
*PS. Bob Shank donated to the last stanza. Check comments for more info