An addiction for Perfection
The moment I pulled my sleeve down
I saw the shock in his eyes
Embarrasment, because there were people around
I saw the shock
I felt guilty
Yet relieved
Still, awkardness was a dominance
I know that it isn't the way
It sure isn't perfect
But it does help
Even if it's for a little while
Perfection is unreachable
Yet I'm striving for perfection
It sucks, yet I continue
I know it is ridiculous
I don't want people to know
Yet I forget that I've made
Red lines across my arm
So I pull up my sleeves
And expose the beautiful marks
Beautiful, but full of the ugliness
Of an addiction
That might be stronger than drugs
And then I realize,
People don't see it that often
And when they do
It shocks them
And I know the shame too well
I know the look in their eyes
I could dream it to infinity
Yet I hate the addiction
Beautiful isn't perfect
Neither are the lines I've made
Running across my arm
Making an artwork on skin
Dangerous, yet helpful
Well, helpful? No
All it does is make
My anger worse
An artwork on skin
In blood red lines
An addiction
Stronger than willpower
It takes over your mind
Your spirit
And your body
Leaves you vulnerable
Yet stronger if you manage
To pull out of the artwork
And believing it is
Something beautiful
For making an artwork
Across your skin
In blood red lines
Isn't beautiful at all
