It's not good enough.
No, stop trying to tell me it is.
It's not.
The grade doesn't matter.
Don't tell me it doesn't have to be flawless.
Because perfection is a disease,
A sickness that eats away at everything until there's nothing left,
Nothing human, nothing noteworthy.
It's a disease that I have.
Always trying to smooth out the edges,
Fill in the blanks,
Wash away the dirt,
Even things out.
It's not good enough.
Hours later, it still isn't good enough.
Days later, it's still not good enough.
It burns away my mind, makes me afraid.
Because there's still something off about it, because there are still flaws, because it isn't perfect.
But it never will be, will it?
YOU ARE READING
A Touch of Wonder
PoetryA book of poetry filled with thoughts, experiences, and emotions. "As I walk down the slippery street, My face streaming with tears, The sadness can barely be sustained. But you suddenly kiss away my fears, My dear umbrella in the rain."
