Perfect

Beauty and pain.


They're both just the same.

You run and you scream and you curse your own name.


You stare at your reflection hoping for perfection.
The mirror on the wall shows it all.
Every detail, every flaw.
How can you stand to look at yourself?
Pain in your pride. Nobody is by your side. You're all alone. Forced to look at the image staring back at you.

You do everything you can imagine just to try and make yourself happy. Cut and pull, but you'll always be dull.

You're a castaway. A loner. A stoner. Society frowns upon you.

You're doing all that you can to try and fit in.

You're just trying to be perfect, but is it really worth it?