Perfection is a crutch

Fragile to the touch

Beautiful from a distance

But never amounting to much

I remember the crippling fear

“What when I crash and burn?”

“What when I’m found out?”

“Oh god, what then?”

Slowing peeling back the curtain

Revealing bones beneath taut skin

A gray face and a smile that faded

Heavy headed for a lightweight

A 4.0 says, “She's got potential.”

All the while at war with victuals

Life was but a ritual

Notice the past tense

Today, I am boundless

Collecting paper crutches

Living is a choice

One that requires a certain prowess

I’ve got a knack for staying alive

Wielding snacks, I stand and fight

Making a promise to never hide

In the daylight it's clear 

Image is weightless and fear is a burden

The sun never shined on anything perfect