an imperfect mess

Hard to imagine any longer
how many years I spent striving
for perfection at this or that
only to find my way intersected
by the nearly perfect mess
I was more likely to become,
so shabbily did I pursue any path
beyond its simplest turnings.

Quite without deliberation
I wove this me into a pattern
no more distinguishable than
that which was most you pleasing
while shedding those threads
that more honestly depicted me,
producing naught but a mess
of meaningless complexity.

[Inspired by Captain Q’s “I’m not a Perfect Dream“. Thanks as always, Captain.]

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