The running theme in my Poetry is perfectionism,
Am I using it as a crutch to double Dutch on such sealing and appealing dreams?
Am I to be seen as this immaculate collection infecting those who hang around me, viewing it as an aspiring level as opposed to the disheveled take they wanna break free from?
Not understanding how pandering to this idealistic creature features firm discernment on an hourly basis……shall I relax or attack 樂 yet another part of my flat which isn’t up to scratch?
Shall I rest or get ready, steady, go to trendy it up to feel better about myself? Is the natural me such a disaster to see that I cannot let my guard or facade down. I was on the money yesterday so surely I have to rise to the occasion again?
Ten out of ten for presenting such false functions of self, eleven out of ten for organisational skills to pay the bills…..although of late, my date with the financial sector has fettled me clueless.
Ruthless in my guise to size up my street cred, Red or Dead was my go to in the 90’s……now it’s any ole brand to make sure my singular strands don’t fray around the edgy nature of my comprised clientelle,
I mistook looking good for feeling good about myself, the worse I feel, the more I try to do a homely tattoo remedy on my mallady,
Am I still trying to fit in with the cool crowd after all these years?……as being the opposite at school led to copius floods of fear based tears,
Not all is lost as my appearance is also an expression of my love for style and sass, I’m a forty two year old Woman……..but deep down…….a nineteen year old lass ❤
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