Something doesn’t feel right.
One little thing,
Shoved dramatically out of place,
One micron.
I can’t get it out of my mind,
The imperfection, the missing piece.
The stress builds in me,
As I cannot seem to correct the flaw.
My mind starts accelerating,
Faster than a Porsche.
Anxiety to panic,
Anger to rage.
I’ve become a demon,
A troll,
A fire breathing dragon,
A combination of all three.
The rage blinds my mind.
Maim! Hurt! Kill! Destroy!
The circuits have overloaded,
The fuses, blown.
Punishment is metered out,
To excise my internal pain.
For what I did wrong,
To cause the entire mess.
Then as fast as a Thanos snap,
The monster vanishes.
My mind is eerily quiet,
And full of dust.
4 comments:
Again so beautiful - the painful quest for perfection. I recall walking into a room to see my friend perched on the windowsill of a third floor apartment trying to clean the speck of dirt that bothered him. It was scary.
Thank you. I finally understand why people feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me. It is scary.
Beautiful poem, I can hear the struggle through the poem for perfection. I wish you the very best! ❤
Thank you! Just knowing how hard wired my perfectionism is helps so much!
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