What Perfectionists Live with

 Perfectionism is a disease, a parasite 

Feeding on my hopes held high.

It strips everything away.

Until I fall down and say

"I give up, you win!

I'm nothing!" 

Perfection is heartless, cruel.

It's corruptive and evil. 

I slave to hear it's praises 

And nonetheless, Perfection says

"You're not worthy of my love."

You'd think I would walk away and be done,

But leaving this relationship isn't simple

When the virus lives inside my cells. 

Each time I get up to walk away

It clings and begs for me to stay!

Promising things will be different from then on,

And like a naive fool, I listen to Perfection. 

The veil gets lifted eventually,

Perfection's gentility won't hide the cruelty.

I get played over and over each time

Because I listen to those sweet white lies.

The fall is always crushing, my soul has cracks

Each time I fall, I wonder, is this day my last?