I will never be perfect, is a lesson I’ve learned

To be still, is something never earned.

Movement must be constant; a reminder of who I’ve been.

Even the smallest moment of stillness, I consider a win.

Feelings, beings, tearings, never is enough;

For when I try to be honest, you just leave in a huff.

Compared to a younger version, hidden from the truth,

Is something, I’ve learnt, is what hurt me in my youth.

Anger, rage, fury, and hatred- all is how I feel now,

When looking at the one who is better than I, somehow.

Perfection is a struggle I’ve always strived for.

But whenever I show all of my work, you always require more.

More, more, more, is all I ever give,

But even the smallest mistake, you never forgive.

Struggle, strife, just maybe, a little longer,

Is something that I constantly ponder.

A sister of perfection, a sister filled with purity,

Is more than I’ll ever be.

A sister filled with joy, a sister I resent,

Another topic for me to lament.