Too be perfect, you can't do wrong

Making everyone happy, singing everyones song

Your clothes must be right, no hems in disarray

You must know your lines to perform in lifes play

To be perfect means work, it's a tiresome game

You lose sight of yourself, your name is not your name

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741