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Abby  Aug 2023
Perfectionism
Abby Aug 2023
Perfectionism is draining your thoughts
Ideas
Mental capacity and
Emotions
In order to never get it right
Never be quite satisfied and
Always question your choices
Over and over again
Perfectionism is rushing and
Never having time to do all the things
And yet perfectionism is painstakingly
Slow and never ending
Perfectionism is not loving yourself
Is not seeing that the best you can do
Is good enough
Is striving for a level of excellence that
Leaves the job perpetually unfinished and Unloved
Perfectionism is wholly unsafe
But
Loving yourself enough
To live with ‘good enough’
Is
Just
Perfect
MicMag  Dec 2018
being written
MicMag Dec 2018
sometimes you just
gotta sit down and write
just grab the apple
and take a bite
just take a leap
into the dark night

if you want to be a poet
you gotta write poems
let the words go
wherever the wind blows em

sometimes your lines will ****
other times blow you away
but stay firm on that writing path
don't be led astray
by laziness and perfectionism
saying you can't do it
don't give in, knock em down
push yourself right through it

let the poem be what it is
let its rhymes ring true
knowing as much
as you're writing the poem
it's also writing you
success comes
through failure
improvement comes
through the grind
go ahead
write bad poems
they'll make you better
in due time
distended the pearls are red and uncovered
upon my mistakes. erasure taunts.

something stirs unbidden strangely
familiarity dissolves in tears

suddenly distant the sun streaks
through the black waves

nothing works anymore

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
         02.01.2013
        Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Talia Rose Feb 2016
In a society, image is everything. You are judged from the people you hang out with, the things you do, the clothes you wear.  People shout out that the boy sitting in the corner of gym class is too fat or whisper about how that girl down the hall is far too skinny.  The head of the dance team is told she has one too many curves and should not be “poppin’ and lockin’” with so much confidence, yet the cheerleader is criticized for her petite stature and flat chest.  The boy with the glasses?  He gets bullied daily for his lack of social activity, meanwhile the football **** is faking his confidence and putting on a persona simply to hold up his high school reputation.

Children grow up with the assurance that beauty is on the inside, and that what is on the outside doesn’t matter, yet this statement has proven itself to be false time and time again.  These children were lied to.  You were lied to.  I was lied to. The world is cruel.  It is judgmental and ignorant.  People are turned down their dream jobs over the most miniscule stupidities, such as the fact that they have a tattoo on their arm or because their hair is purple.  You are judged at every corner of your journey, and your world will always revolve around the physicality of how you look.  

No matter how many people believe that appearance is of little importance, there is always a whole world behind them willing to prove them wrong.  But that doesn’t mean we cannot dream.  Dream.  That’s all it is.  That promise that who you are on the inside is enough? It’s all a dreamful desire to look past the image your body presents.  And if dreaming is the only hope we have at being seen as our true self, than you better believe I’m going to keep on dreaming.

Because of the picture society has set out for me, I’ve constantly looked in the mirror seeing nothing but a disappointment.  Every day I find a new flaw, and every day, I realize I am even further from perfection.  But if I can dream that who I am on the inside is enough, than maybe I can become one of the first perfect imperfections out there.

You see, I have never wanted to be perfect, nor do I want to now.  Quite honestly, I don’t believe that perfection exists.  It is a myth.  And yet, everyone seems to be reaching to the stars, going out of their way to attain even the smallest ounce of this so called perfectionism.  Whatever you are reaching for, stop.  Stop and hear me out.  

Beauty is neither from within nor without.  Right is neither in this way nor in that way.  And perfection is neither in your world or mine.  Because we are one in the same.  And the only way to be what our society is calling perfect is to be as imperfect as possible.  Be yourself, because no matter what you do, I can promise you that you will be judged. With every step you take, expect a shadow to crawl up behind you and tell you are doing it wrong.  Expect to be an outcast and to not fit in “perfectly.” Expect to be criticized and ridiculed, because it will happen anyways.  Why are you going to strive to be perfect and risk losing yourself, when you can simply embrace each and every flaw to create the most beautiful imperfection possible?  Don’t live to please others.  Don’t strive to be perfect when perfection is nonexistent.  Embrace what your mamma gave you and rock each imperfection like it is no one else’s business. Because in the end, this is your dream, and being the captain of your own voyage is the only way to make it worth it.  It is the only way to become perfectly imperfect.
Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
No ****** or dawdling just for fun
Gotta be the best gotta be #1
I scrutinize every detail
Until I am done
If I am not perfect I turn face and run

Its just a day in the life of a perfectionist
I could go on and on and make a long list, but I'm hopeful already that you all get the jist

I'd love to sit down and draw some cool art
But if every line wasn't perfect I'd crumple it up or tear it apart
However, I know that I'm talented and sharp as a dart
But my ideals are too critical and not very smart
However, this is my reality. So I hardly can start
Eh, Scratch all that - I guess I need to restart

Its all in a day of a perfectionist
I've reversed on my promise and made you a list
I'm second guessing myself that you're getting the jist

I'd love to sit down and write a poem or two
But it's impossible to write perfection though - we all know this to be true
That fact on its own is bringing me down and making me blue
Its making me sick like I'm getting the flu
How can I ever release this poem? What will I do?
Ugh! I've gotta scratch this again and come up with something that's new!

Don't you see? This is the life of a perfectionist
I've given examples and made a small list
But I'm confident now that you all get the jist

Of just what's its like being a perfectionist.

Hold up! There is one more thing I'd like to say
I beat myself up every night, every day
And although I fall short, I pray and I pray
That this wicked perfectionism will not stay
That one day I'll be content with myself and that it'll stay that way.
Now I'd like to wrap this all up - if I may

Well, I guess thats just the way it is
In a day of the life of a perfectionist
You've heard my reasoning and you've witnessed my list
So I can certainly say that you all get the jist

Of exactly what its like being a perfectionist
I came up with the theme of perfectionism and decided to write it out and explain my experiences with it. Not much more to it than that.
Chie  Jul 2021
black swans
Chie Jul 2021
they're spotless, no room for human flaws here.
with faultless sense of selves and fragile attributes
are silver stars, whose homes are cold glittered spotlights
pressured, battered and bruised. look away dear, they're "fine"

they're fine, scared and composed until the next plot twist
rarely, ever so rarely - a perfect one slips
a miscalculation on a regular day
phenomena, wasn't supposed to be that way

perfectionism drove them faultlessly insane
when the known consistent road, shatters to eggshells
"ever so rarely", they reason to the mirrors
with guilt mixing in the blood of walking in fear

inner madness unleashing, black swans reappearing
the wrongs, how cruel that it doesn't let them go on
"this is only once in a blue moon", they echo
deep breathes, clutching close, the past's panic they can't let go
[ the breaking point of a black swan ]
Empire  Mar 2019
Is it worth it?
Empire Mar 2019
I take a pill
Every night
Before bed
And it keeps away
The panic
The compulsions
The stress
The perfectionism
The drive
The desire for excellence
The 4.0 student
Everything that was
Killing me
And
Creating me
So, now I have to decide
Is it worth it?
I don't want to feel like that, but now I've lost what made me special...

I either have to return to who I was or move forward as someone else...
Marieta Maglas Oct 2011
A white bird flying at day
Or a black bird flying at night
Or a black bird flying at day
Or a white bird flying at night
Black and white, black over white 
Oh,my Lord, how painful can be 
This need of touch in his absence
White and black, white over black
Oh,my Lord, how painful can be 
This absence of his touch
Black penetrating white
And white penetrating black
Never finding the gray.
Category: Poetry
MCN: CDXA6-8SNLU-71NDM
© copyright Mon Dec 27 19:25:35 UTC 2010 - All Rights Reserved- From The prison of my mind
The Noose  Jan 2014
Outlook
The Noose Jan 2014
Violin sonatas of gloom
Acoustics of desire
Play all at once
A peculiar compilation
An elegy of sorts
For yours truly
Welcome to life
Soak up the unrealised potential

Inflamed with rage
To this day
You walk this earth
With a strong conviction
You owe yourself something
You cannot deliver
Extreme self-expectations
Coupled with perfectionism
The fatal modus operandi
You continue adhering to
Goodluck with standing in the way
Of your own happiness

Thrive in your concentrated negativity
While seeking solace in one-liners
Of absolute *******
You maybe a joke
But you are hilarious
Oh, wait.. the joke wore thin
A dozen punchlines ago
You died 12 summers ago
It’s whatever

One day bitter and wilted
As you sit in a cold impersonal office
You will dream about the ocean
And mourn wasted youth
Today will be yesterday
Today is ruined
Tomorrow is dead.
Just for clarification I am ******* enthusiast.
allsmallletters Mar 2019
Forget the onion and all its layers
thats obvious
You are undeserving for such a cliché
So I invite a different perspective
Think of a base, flour and egg kneaded together like I need you,
so dense in identical morals
Folded with mirrored ideology of future fortuity
Dipped sensually with a sauce so thick,
Thicker than blood or water,
Blended as one to create a sea of red as deep as our hearts pumping vitality
Sprinkled softly with the most palatable, mouth watering mozzarella
Each placing full of utter affection,
Long lost stares while you sit innocent to me feasting my eyes upon your moreish persona.
The only quandry we must face is whose decision that day of toppings to showcase
Who gets the chance to tease additional flavours, delicious tasters
To open eyes to attributes unseen before,
Hopes set high to electrify taste buds
Wanting the other to crave more

Ingredients brought together for a flavoursome pizza
You are my hawaiian
As i,
Your meatfeast.

Opposing trimmings
Eachothers 1st choice
One anothers perfection to quench their dying hunger
The anaolgy I concoted best used to describe my relationship.
My partner and I have opposite interests, humour, and past times,
but we sit firmly in a body of identical morals, integrity and honour, mirroring each others.
A pizza is nothing without a strong base.
Toppings can be changed and mixed to any combination.
The base is the structure of our love, ***** and rigid.
The toppings are interchangeable extras that we diversify daily to develop and grow together.
Ginelle Gonzalez Sep 2011
If you grasp tight to your
                         individualism,
Give in to all the
                      romanticism,
Rid of any
         materialism,
Confide within
                   professionalism,
Drop all acts of
                      favoritism,
Eject from any
                vulgarism,
Open up to
           socialism,
Advocate
              activism,
Realize you are an
                          organism,
Forget about any
                     perfectionism,
And explore inside
                           transcendentalism,
You will look up into complete
                                          mesmerism
of how all the stars are
                               symbolism
for the billion versions of
                                   creationism
that you've ever lived,
                             and will live.
Rose Ruminations Aug 2014
She spits fire
Stands strong
Feet planted:
No mercy
Unyielding

She is belladonna
She is the femme fatale
She is unattainable
And she revels it that.

Solitude lends itself to sweet dreams and optimism
Without the threat of slowing down
Without the weight of children's bodies
Without the teeth and claws of responsibility
Sinking soul-shudderingly deep
Into her body

Or so she tells herself
When faced with her
Swarms of unhappy thoughts
Gnat-like they flutter
Around her head

But she will not let them in

Because that is vulnerability
That is admitting weakness
That is being human

And she will never admit her *hamartia

— The End —