My poetry

Pink Wrote a Song She Calls "Perfect"

Pink wrote a song she calls "perfect".
It's a song about her struggles, and about feeling out of place, about the criticism she faced.
She says all this to a kid who is like her, and Wright's that the kid is perfect how they are.
My dad says this song reminds him of me, especially the lines about Pink's mistakes or flaws.

"Made a wrong turn, once or twice. Dug my way out, blood and fire.
Bad decisions, that's alright. Welcome to, my silly life.
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, Ms. no-way, it's all good it didn't slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated, look I'm still around."

Dad remembers all of the trouble I got into growing up, the fights, ISS, and detentions.
Dad thinks of how I was called a delinquent, how no one listened to my side of the story,
And how when he looks at me now, he sees that I didn't listen to them, and how I'm still here.

"Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel, like you're less than, fuckin' perfect.
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel, like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect, to me"

Dad thinks of me as perfect, even with my flaws,
And never wants me to feel like I'm nothing, because I'm everything to him.

"You're so mean, when you talk, about yourself, you were wrong,
Chang the voices in your head, make them like you instead."

On more than on occasion my dad has heard me talk bad about myself.
He tells me not to think so negatively, because he sees me in a brighter light.

"So complicated, look how we all make it, filled with so much hatred, such a tired game.
It's enough, I've done all I can think of, chased down all my demons, I'll see you do the same."

Dad has watched me beat myself up over mistakes, he has seen my eyes dull with doubt.
He has watched me learn to love myself, and how I push my little sister into doing the same now.

"Whole worlds scared so I swallow the fear,
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer.
So cool in lying and we try, try, try, but we try to hard and it's a waste of my time.
Done looking for the critics, 'cause there're everywhere.
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair. Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time,
Why do we do that, why do I do that, why do I do that?
Yeah, oh, oh pretty pretty pretty please."

People say that who I am is wrong, any time I dye my hair people have all sorts of opinions.
People have even said "oh I bet her parents are disappointed in her."
My dad says to ignore them, and to do what makes me happy.
I use to try and become someone that would fit in, I don't understand why now,
I would rather be who I am then fit in with everyone else.

"Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than, fuckin' perfect.
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel, like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect, to me.
You're perfect, you're perfect.
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect, to me."

I have come a long way from where I was, and my dad isn't the only one who helped me.
My mother, stepmother, stepfather, and four siblings have all affected who I am.
Now I love myself and I will do the same for my future children, that my dad did for me.