I used to know
What I was
I was perfect
As close as I could be
Smart, kind, mature
When I ******* up
I would beat myself
Until I was so sick
Of being me
Because I was perfect
Barely breathing
Over thinking
Not quite healing
From everything I did
To myself
Now, I'm a mess
I'm not perfect
Like I thought I was
I hurt, ache, cry
Deeply, infinitely confused
I've twisted myself
Into a knot of consciousness
And the only one to blame
Is still
Me
I haven't really changed