Imagine for a minute that you are perfect.

No flaws stain you.
No promises are broken.
No syllables scathe.
No words are untrue.
No hair is out of place.
No thought is out of place.
No temper is flared.
No mistake you make.

I have dreamt of being perfect.
I have whittled away myself,
I have stretched myself thin.
I have screamed in my head,
I have leaked tears
seeking how to be perfect.

One neat stroke without a smudge.
I can’t find it on myself.
One pure thought without a temptation.
I can’t find it in myself.
One smooth path without a roadblock.
I can’t find it by myself.

So I imagine.
I design.
I create.

Submerged in fantasy,
I am no longer my tormented soul.
Fusing into another form,
I become scripted.

Granting myself everything I want,
Removing myself from anything I don’t.

Erase one slip-up,
Backspace one move.

Haven’t you felt the same?
Didn’t you ever wonder?
Don’t you ever pretend?

I never dared question
What defined perfect.
I guess I don’t still,
If I’m still tied up
In my warped visions.

Too consumed,
You will not see me anymore.
You will carry on without knowing.
Falling back,
I am swallowed by my shame.
I have no idea what I am.

If only you could make me believe otherwise.
But whoever could?
I will remain mute,
For anyone who even cares to know.

I traversed one road
for far too long.
Turning around
is pointless.
This whole quest for perfection
is pointless.

And yet I keep walking it,



21 thoughts on “Perfect

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