Perfectionism
Learn more about other poetry terms
It’s all about the presentation.
The way you present your poetry can make or break the poem.
A poem written by a below-average 4 year old can sound beautiful coming out of your mouth.
I don't understand
Life goes by in a daze
So many thoughts, so many opinions, so much to live for
I feel like i should be someone else
But it's a lie
When I'm alone I feel happy
But it's a lie
Every petal painted pink and prime,Green leaves arranged with perfect symmetry,A few bright shades with which to tell a life,And yet a yearning in the purity. Structure formed and inside wholly planned,Meticulously minding every speck,Ideal distri
No one is like me
This is a blessing and a curse
No one is as detail oriented as I am
No one thinks like me
having an eating disorder means wanting everyone to know and no one to ask
it means accidentally leaving your lunch at home and proudly telling friends no thanks when they offer to share
Of course you are not perfect,
but why do you fret?
There are many more important reasons
to find yourself upset.
You could be greedy, coniving, full of deceit,
turning a blind eye
Perfectionism
We never fully satisfy it
Thoughts of self compassion make it cringe
Often it deceives
Faultfinding limits our potential
Cuts off love and belonging in life
So scratch that-be free
we were happy once
back when we were but children, giggling
at the minute moments
innocent, but ignorant.
not yet accustomed to the term depression
Gather ye round, kids, would you like to knowAbout how I took up the art of writing poems?Let me summarize my 18 years in all of their glory,As you sit around t
I know a girl
with 'perfect' written on her wrist,
and I think it’s funny because
it isn’t perfect at all.
When I say perfect, I mean it literally -
As a little kid, I was told I must be the best
Be a golden star because I was always meant to shine
I got the good grades, participated in sports, did the extracurricular activities
Certain things in particular
Those poor girls, this poor me
trying to navigate womanhood
not knowing which way to look,
There are secrets—Well, there are always secrets.
But there are secrets that lie in wait for me. They lie just below the surface.
(poems go here) The fall of eighth grade the leaves
changed their glorious colors
and I was diagnosed with overwhelming loneliness.
