we used to talk
every single day
about
every single thing

and now
we nod
in passing

and it leaves me aching
for the careless laughter
we used to share

but you seem perfectly
okay with
this turn of events

i want to apologize
because this is all my fault

but you seem fine

so the only person
that needs my sorry
is me

This disease struck me
Like a brick on pavement
Hard

Everything was
Perfect
Then that brick came along
And with the slightest movement
Destroyed everything

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
The voices say

Why can’t I let them go?
They keep repeating:

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Why won’t they stop

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
I don’t understand

“Count it
Perfect it
Measure it
Clean it”
Someone just HELP me understand

This disease is about
Perfection
But it's the biggest
Imperfection about me

I have found myself
But the self I found
Even i myself
Am profoundly Astound
And of this astounding self
I am infinitely proud