In the mirror of my mind, I seek a flawless face,
A portrait without blemish, a life without disgrace.
Yet shadows whisper softly, “Perfection’s but a dream,”
A fleeting, fragile vision, not all as it may seem.

The canvas of existence, marked with every stroke,
Each line, a story told, each color, words bespoke.
Chasing after shadows, I lose the light of day,
Perfection, an illusion, leads my heart astray.

In the quest for perfect moments, I miss what’s truly real,
The laughter in the chaos, the wounds that slowly heal.
Embrace the flawed and broken, the beauty in the cracks,
For in imperfection’s garden, true grace never lacks.

So let go of the burden, the weight of endless strive,
Find peace in the imperfect, the beauty that’s alive.
For perfection is a phantom, a shadow in the night,
True joy lies in the journey, not in the flawless sight.