I wonder what it takes a person,
To be perfect.
Does it mean that you'll be flawless?
Fierce and strong?
Or does it mean you'll be untouchable,
Without a speck of dust?
What does perfection actually mean?
To be the best at everything?
Or to know anything?
Perfection, is murdered by the society.
It is stained and destroyed and painted as a monster.
We're told that to be perfect,
We have to dress in nice dresses, and be children of big men.
Learn to cook dishes,
Kneel for you man.
Be smarter than Einstein,
Prettier than Zendaya.
Not too tall.
Not too short.
Not to fat.
Not too slim.
Perfection,
Is battered by the society.
Their demands, had the world running in circles and confusion and self hate.
At the end,
The most perfect
Is the unhappiest.
~
YOU ARE READING
In My Head | ✓
PoesieIn my head, there are a million things I'd wish I could say. A million things I realize. But the courage I have not birthed to say them aloud. Just a girl who feels too much, sees too much, hears to much and an obsession of curiosity. In a world w...
