Perfection is near
Become what you are not
It is never quite here
Yet it’s always sought
I crumble with fear
But it’s not what I’m taught
Away they steer
But I tried and I fought
“You’re not perfect, my dear”
Is the point they had brought
“You have a blemish right here,
Perfect you are not”

Yet I longed for the day
When their words, they would change
In all of my dreams, perhaps they would say,
“Your perfection is strange,
But it won’t fade away
Your beauty won’t change
And your perfection will stay.”
But to think these things, I must be deranged
And no one will listen to the sound of my bray
But I long for the beauty of the famed Trhushcross Grange
Or the splendor and glamor of the Nutcracker ballet
But my flaws, they remain