The Perfectionist

I got called a perfectionist last night and I don’t know what to do.

Oh dear, I cried

Oh gosh

Oh my

I’m afraid it might be true.

You see my friends

The thing with me is

I like to rhyme

And smile with glee

But even though

I cross my t’s

There’s always a small part of me

That knows it’s never good enough

And that’s when things can get quite rough.

Perfectionist

A word that casts

A feeling that forever lasts

In here

And here

And here

And here

And maybe somewhere over there

So, I dot my i’s

And sip my tea

I guess I probably should agree

But it’s hard for me to wait and see

And not really guarantee

But there are some things you ought to know

And don’t worry, I won’t go slow.

I don’t submit in a fight

Especially if I know I’m right.

I laugh too loud

I cry too much

I overindulge at every brunch

I’m always thinking

What’s yet to come?

And try not to get too high strung

About every detail

That could be a mess

Or even the moments of very big stress

I sing out of pitch

And way out of tune

And I’d really rather not drink from the goon

It’s more of an itch

That needs to be scratched

Even if most times I’m breaking my back.

Maybe one day I’ll let it all go

But until that time

You really should know

I am every single part of me.

Oh dear, I cry

Oh gosh

Oh my

How lucky I must be.