Confessions of a Perfectionist (poem)

[Roa_Aoife]

Can you see me?
Who I am?
'Cuase sometimes I wonder.
No.
All you see is what you want.
All I hear is "perfect."

I hate that word.
That word is my prison.
Trapped in this pretty little cage.
Stuck on this road.
I have no say in where it goes.
Just to "perfect."

What a horrid word.
It defines the golden bars,
And I have become my cage.
I hold myself in,
Push myself hard,
Always seeking "perfect."

Disgusting word,
But nothing else will do.
I can't see me anymore.
I've lost myself to this image.
I have never lived, and never will.
There it is, "perfect."

It's not so bad.
I could live this life happily.
If you call it life.
I can make myself to suit it,
And let the pressure take me.
I know nothing but "perfect."

So what else is there?
What is beyond "perfect?"

I wish I knew.

*************
A.N. This is the first poem I ever wrote. I just started randomly writing poems a few months ago, and I'm not sure why. This won't be great, but I thought I could post it here for some feedback. (That means respond.)

[Perfect Soldier]

Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. I was really nervous when I put up my first poem on this board but every one here was very nice about it and were extremely posotive. I liked the poem, I've never really had the problem as being seen as someone who is perfect but when you talk about loosing yourself to an image and a label I can definitely relate. You did really well, and I hope you write another poem.

Zero

[Roa_Aoife]

Thank you very much. I will post a new one soon. This is something that has bothered me for most of my life, and I just wanted to get out how much pressure the "perfect people" are really under, cuase in the end, they will never be perfect. It's kinda a lose-lose situation, but one that can be hard to escape. I've beeen working on my perfectionism for a while now, and I'm beginning to break it.