Whispers of the Soul

OCD

The Weight of Perfection

In the quiet of dawn, where dreams start to fade,
A whisper of worry begins to invade.
Each breath is a measure, each moment a test,
A race for perfection, a quest for the best.

The world spins in colors, a canvas unmade,
Yet I paint with precision, each stroke carefully laid.
A symphony of order, a dance of control,
But the rhythm grows heavy, it burdens the soul.

Every wrinkle, a failure, every flaw, a sin,
In the mirror's reflection, my battle begins.
I strive for the summit, where the purest light gleams,
But the higher I climb, the heavier it seems.

A heart wrapped in armor, forged by my fears,
Each tear is a crack, each smile a veneer.
The weight of expectations pulls down like a chain,
A crown made of thorns, a source of deep pain.

I measure my worth in the tasks I complete,
In the neatness of corners, the taste of defeat.
Perfection, a ghost that I chase through the night,
But it slips through my fingers, just out of my sight.

In the chaos of life, I long for release,
To dance in the moments where I find my peace.
Yet the clock ticks relentlessly, the pressure won't cease,
As I balance my dreams on the edge of a crease.

What if I falter? What if I fall?
In the quest for perfection, I'm losing it all.
For beneath all the striving, the yearning to shine,
Lies a heart that is weary, a spirit confined.

So I gather my courage, I whisper the truth,
That perfection is fleeting, a thief of my youth.
I'll learn to embrace the imperfect and raw,
To find beauty in chaos, to live without flaw.

With each step I take, I'll lighten the load,
And let go of the burden that's heavy and cold.
For the weight of perfection may crush and confine,
But the freedom of being is where I'll align.