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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.
Isabel Frye Mar 2020
My darling.... are you ever confronted with the universal truth that you won’t ever sink to the bottom of the ocean?
Have you ever been confronted with the fact that you won’t ever touch the validation you seek?
And as you reach the tiled pool floor and you brace yourself
Your skin says no
Like an oily layer you slip and slide back up
Now as you speak to me your voice quivers as if, you never had even touched the thick water before
My darling there is a science to art
And as my density shakes like your lips whenever you become small and fall to the floor, I wonder why I keep fighting for something you just won’t give up.
maybe you truly are a scientist
And as lips touch,
the waves of the ocean cover us and we sink slowly but surely  
Maybe if I jump head first I’ll be worthy enough,
If I make a big enough mess,
a disaster,
maybe if I scratch the surface, or even throw a fit,
I can really be noticed
Maybe if I dance in the hearts of mankind, dance in your shaking veins as I try my hardest to trust you, to give in
maybe then I’ll hit the bottom of the ocean
But I sink because of pressure
I sink because you tell me to
I sink because I want to silence my thoughts
I sink because I want to stay in this moment
Where the vibrations of your mockery and foolishness can never dream of reaching me
I sink because I don’t want to swim
I sink because I want to reach the bottom of this ocean.
Maybe then I’ll touch the feeling of being wanted,
The eerie silence hugging me tighter and tighter, holding me like a new mother holds her child, wanting to shield them from the world.
But in the pool water I only float quickly back to earth
To life
I hate leaving the quiet waters
As my body enters the real abyss I breathe the cold air into my lungs and I scream-
I scream to be heard
I scream to silence these useless memories
I scream to be known
I scream for you to see
I scream for all that was lost
I scream so that you can wake up
I scream for worthiness- I scream to trust.
I scream so that maybe these bubbles won’t surface
I scream for the waves to carry my sighs
I sigh for the ocean to carry my screams.
And I scream to find my voice.
And that I too may
May hit the bottom of the floor
It may be a universal truth that I will never reach the perfection I seek
It may be my death wish, and I am doomed to fail
But I will still wish that maybe,
Maybe I too
Will be told
That science is an art
And I too can be an artist.
My first poem! I would love if you could possibly leave a comment with feedback, I would really appreciate it!
Kendall Seers Mar 2020
There is a rush to throwing yourself into a wave.
A certain giddiness or
a daring hope,
that this time
you will make it to the other side.
Head high and anxiety low,
Able to reassure yourself that
Yes, you can do it.

It is such a rush
that when the ocean breaks on your head,
you know that underwater is temporary,
And bearable.
So here you go.
Set your eyes on that wave,
tell yourself,
this time I will do it.
I will never know
If I don’t try after all.

So what if I have been here,
been trying, for years?
The water laps at my neck, as I cough.
I have been at sea for so long,
my muscles ache, heart most of all.
I keep trying, though
My lips are blue,
glabrous flesh has wrinkled,
And I can hardly see
for all the salt in my eyes.
I can’t tell.

Though I crave to rest,
The sea does not care.
Each attempt leeching heat,
and locks growing green as kelp.
I fear that should I rest now,
I would never see shore again.
But rather,
find my new bed is one of the sea,
Where I could sleep,
undisturbed by the crashes above,
and never drown.
Being neurodivergent in university is a heck of a time.
quiet in body
never felt
connection in reflection
never seen
harmony in surface and mind
never realized.

what is real? I cannot see, neither feel.
what I see, likewise feel —is not real?

back against the wall, cracked.

a chorus of blood
chants incessantly under skin
in the tunnels of my wrists
a buzzing
I am encased in this unsound flesh of sin, crawling
fingers of insanity
all I can do is destroy (myself)
the ritualistic obsession
the control seduction
compulsively constructing my own deconstruction
a dance —just enough to relive pain in living
sweating and dizzy in exhaustible effort I am, lost
in the hunt
to conquer my body like a continent
assimilation with a world where  
all flesh is but wax and tactless camouflage  
painted cheeks fall like petals  
hair like wheat severs from heads
and bones rust like guns that drain away blood—

my brain collapses inwards.

I strive towards completion but in reaching it find
I am already dead.
Desire Dec 2019
She’s a lost soul
Encrypted in kryptonite
Society never failed to lie to her
She was born perfect
But the world just didn’t see it
So day by day
Society would wash the real her away
And the tragedy was
Society’s lost soul was itself
In depth in destruction and insecurity
Society killed itself
For everyone knew
Society was just a bluff
This world I live in tends to focus on others and their thoughts. It has people like me feeling more lonely than ever, this poem was meant to show the real problem is society and the insecurities it holds but reflects onto others. Everyone is perfect, and society is just a bluff.
About the night, the hungry bellow—calls
resurrecting at the drunk of dim
where laden limbs curl
up in moonlight breath.

Growing closer, louder! I hear it
moan out, pulsing in my head.

Entranced, I follow.

Among silver rock, a well-like hole
******* deep in the ground, pulls —
me to its edge.
My gaze trips

hallow's insatiable desire

To fill, to fix,
to feed, to find
the focus of my mind!

More, more!
I filled, I fixed,
I fed, I found.

The more I filled, I fixed
The more I fed, I found
the emptier it became.
I became.

The hungry bellow swallowed
all, and soon it swallowed
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