Shards of Perfection

 

Shards of Perfection

 

The shards of perfection, have bound us all,

They hold us captives, they chain us all,

Oh, everyone has been a prisoner to it, and so have I,

They have cut me too, deep and sharp,

Until I bled, too much to stop.

 

The girl was tired of being fake,

Tired of staring into the mirror every day,

Tired of hoping against hope she would change some way.

Dresses and make up,

False smiles and laughs,

Everyone loved her when she was happy,

No one wanted her when she was sad.

All these years, she hid behind her perfect façade,

                                     All these years, she was blinded by these bitter shards,

She was blinded by the promises they gave,

They made her pretty, but to the core she bled and cried,

Oh, the poor girl, she did not realize,

That she was getting killed inside.

 

And that’s all they do.

See my friends, perfection comes not from beauty or grace.

It does not even come from within.

There is nothing as ‘perfect’.

This word is a curse, a stab, a knife.

Stop trying to be perfect,

Instead enjoy your life.

We have lesser time on this world than we realize.

Stop wishing, ‘Oh I wish I was...’

In that longing wish you’ll die.

These shards are a mirror, they reflect only the good side.

But my dear people, with good there exists a bad too.

Look at how beautiful things are, not how they can be better,

              These shards will try to tempt you, but you have to pass a blind eye.

Because once you see them, you’ll drown in their soothing melody of lies.

 

These are the shards of perfection, who have bound us all,

They hold us captives, they chain us all,

Oh, everyone has been a prisoner to it, and so have I,

They have cut me too; deep and sharp,

Until I bled, too much to stop.

 

And I bled and bled until someone once, gave me the same advice,

But alas! I was too vain to listen.

And now I repent in my last days, chained to this rock, these shards.

It took me everything to realize, that the world is much more than these shards.

And as I write,

I hope and pray, you’ll listen.

I hope you’ll stop the bleeding,

Unlike I.

                                                                                -Shriya Nauhria