First off! The structure of your poem is amazing, really enhances the feeling of everything going downhill, falling apart. I love it. Here is it basically. You're a complete stranger to me but this poem is as if you can read my mind. I'm at this point where perfection is really bugging me. The will to have no flaws and staring at yourself and knowing you are not. I've spent my time reading cliche poetry about this particular feelings, but it never really hit home. This does.
"And now, I have to convince myself
that there is some sort of beauty
in my scars,
in my patches,
in the knotted thread I've used to sew myself together.
I don't know if I can love the places where I've become more than me
and less than me
at the same time.
Trying to convince yourself"
This is my favorite bit. Telling yourself you have to love yourself, you have to feel comfortable with the fake facade, but it doesn't work. because when you're alone and thinking, you're train of thoughts lead back to being imperfect.
The last stanza really reads my mind. They way I interpreted it, is as if people don't realize how fucked up you are. They see half of you thinking they have you figured out, but they don't. The worst part is you don't really know who you are anyway.
Points: 435
Reviews: 44
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