About the Poem
Although I am submitting this as a poem, it is actually the lyrics to a song that I am currently writing. This poem is about a trial that I have had to overcome in my life - perfectionism.
I have major clinical depression and after three nearly fatal suicide attempts, I was placed in an adolescent treatment center, where I wrote this poem. I wrote this in about 20 minutes, and I had no idea what I was writing about until after I was finished. Since then, I have added a little.
I have been out of the treatment center for only a few weeks, and I still have a lot to improve on. The first verse is about how we can be deceived into making mistakes, thinking that they will bring us happiness. I thought the solution to this problem was simple - just stop making mistakes! The second and third verses are about how badly I wanted to be perfect and illustrates how my life was based on perfectionism. In the fourth verse, I am pleading God to let me be perfect, because it isn't working. In the fifth verse, I become frightened. I'm not sure if being perfect is desirable. How can I be human if I'm perfect? In the last verse, I start to wonder if my own perfectionism is a mistake.
The last line is about how confused and hopeless I had become.
Perfection |
| by Ammon Taylor |
| Have we been deceived? The sweet scent of temptation, intoxicating as it may seem The shell is so simple Yet the deep inner core ever elusive sadly proves to be When will this slow realization, this pure revelation break forth and bless my eyes? When will this enlightening wisdom permeate my thoughts, when can these actions enrich other's lives? The anticipation of impossible transcendence This profound longing for the transformation The ascendance from finite to infinite Haunts me through every waking thought How much longer must I wait? Dear God, I implore you, insatiable as my beseechment may seem Please let my weary soul have the strength To shatter these shackles, please let your imperishable truth set me free Would time and space meld into one? Would there be room to learn and grow? Would my emotions cease to be? What creature would I then become? Have I been deceived? The sweet scent of perfection, intoxicating as it may seem The shell is so simple Yet the deep inner core ever elusive sadly proves to be This equivocation of perfection, this paradox consumes me |