Don't tell me that there's no such thing as perfection...
Looking at me.
Looking at myself in the mirror.
Even I turn away, unable to bear the sight for more than a few seconds.
It's hard.
So badly, I want to mold myself into something else.
Once I'm able to shed my juvenile skin, I will recreate myself.
I long for the image of perfection.
DON'T tell me that there's no such thing!
Perfect hair.
Perfect body.
Flawless skin (clear of all blemishes.)
When they look at me,they will not want to turn away.
They'll be captivated by the sight of perfect beauty.
Am I dreaming?
Why must I dream this way?
There's no such thing as perfection...
YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poetry(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...
