Perfect

That’s not quite right.
Just a minute too slow.
That’s what they tell her,
As if she doesn’t already know.

Sitting on the sidelines of perfection,
That’s where you can find her,
Just trying to find the right direction.

Try it again,
Practice makes perfect.
As she repeats her mistakes she thinks,
Is it worth it?

But she can’t quit,
That just wouldn’t be right.
She’s spent so much time on this,
During daytime and night.

She strives for approval,
A pat on the back.
Instead gets removal,
And an anxiety attack.

That’s when it hits her.
No matter how hard she tries,
She will never be perfect.
She won’t win every prize.

Even the famous, the brilliant, the tall,
No one is perfect,
No one at all.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741