Perfectionism is my greatest frenemy,
sometimes we clash as
two great warriors on a bloodstained battlefield.
Other times we embrace as old comrades
reunited in purpose.
Perfectionism has a savory scent
of sweat and hard work and satisfaction
with hints of beauty.
He always makes me feel like
I don't measure up.
He battles to gain control
over my emotions and mind.
I try I try I try I try I try I try I try
to fight back and make
him realise that
neither of us will be perfect.
He malingers in my mind, making
threats of unhappiness,
by pointing out my flaws, leaving them
barren thorns of hatred.
I scramble to the nearest bathroom,
hopefully leaving perfectionism behind,
but he is still chasing me wherever I go.
I close the bathroom door behind me,
leaving him out.
I say to my reflection:
I love you
I love you
I love you
even if we're not perfect.
-
Author:
Shadowbox15 (
Offline) - Published: November 20th, 2017 13:01
- Comment from author about the poem: I think that my mental problems were rooted on the fact that I was a perfectionist.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: NaturalRealist91
Offline)
Comments4
A fine write Shadow. And the last stanza is enough, I feel. Or else it's a bit like scrubbing something which will never be perfectly(!) clean.
Thank you for your comment. I will try to remember this feedback
for the future.
i love that. gives a great vision of why you should never try to be flawless at another being's expense. you cannot give love if you do not love yourself. flaws and imperfections are the exact characteristics that perfect us.
I really wish I could favorite your comment. That was beautiful, thank you.
That was a beautiful poem. Cause for a beautiful interpretation
Great job and so ralatable. Thank you for sharing.
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