Collection Of Poems: Feelings and Fears

Flawed By Design.

Perfection is a goal
An ideal, so I was told.

Perfection is a cage
Always constricting
Tighter
Tighter
Tighter.

Like a noose around
The disaster of
What makes us human

Perfection is cruel
Unforgiving to even the smallest
Of infractions.

There's no room
To breathe
To grow
To change.

Change is the only
Constant we have to see.

Perfection does not bend
It will not break
It will not give
It will take
And take
And take
And take
Until there's nothing left
to remove.

The rope burns
And pulls across
Sore, bruised skin.

I can feel the sting
Of broken skin
The faint trickle
Of crimson droplets
Staining the mud
Beneath my feet.

The rope groans
Under my weight
As nimble hands
Work to cut loose
From the stranglehold
Perfection had over me.

For a brief moment
I fell freely
I could finally breathe
Finally grow
Finally become
What I want to be

Not what Perfection
Told me I needed
To be.

A soft breeze skitters
Across warm and flushed skin

Each breath grows
Less erratic
And slows to a calm
Steady pace

I lay on the cold earth
Filthy, bloodied and bruised
Flawed, imperfect and human.

I am free.

I am alive.