I never wish for perfection

Only that my mistakes seem small enough to fold into themselves

If I can hold them in my palm

Then I can trap them in a fist

But I see myself, I know who I am,

I hear the clock ticking in my eardrum.

Keeping track of seconds, of steps, of time

Do I wait 

Hesitate, let my body seize up

The mistakes wear me as I stand still,


I swear, I never wish to be perfect

But how can I be satisfied when my flaws are all so clear?