I have an infection
I can't tolerate imperfection.

I've lived with it for so long,
But now I'm caught up in its throng

In elementary,
I cried when I got a B

In high school I took control,
And now I'm paying its toll.

Worrying, studying, crying,
As I feel the inside of me dying

Concerned about that extra mark
I ruminate on one percent in the dark

My self worth is tied to each grade,
97.5% and I am dismayed

This feeling's not right
Towards myself I feel spite,

I need to learn to be free
To reduce this anxiety

My thought patterns need to rearrange
With hard work and time I have no choice but to
change