Chocking Perfection

What is perfection? Is it something that shames the edges of a ruler? Does it consider a masterpiece to be blasphemy in its eyes? Or is it a disease? Cursed to people like me People's so engulfed by the unobtainable Uncontainable perception of how things Should and could be This has to be here Here has to be there There has to be somewhere God himself would envy And in that itself I suffer For what can the created imagine That could hold interest of its creators creator Im stuck in an oxymoronic life Searching yet again unobtainable Uncontainable perception of how things Should or could be I have a tight grip on perfection Unaware that it has a tighter hold on me A constant struggle of strength I was never mentally prepared for Caught in a whirlpool of irony I fight for perfection and yet fight against it So when I was losing I felt like I was winning When I had the upper hand I was at a disadvantage Fighting But not really fight the Self conflicting, unforgiving, powerfully, convincing, Simply, difficult perfection that is myself But I accept you now Neither as gift nor a curse But who I am I am.. a perfectionist So with the hands of an artist I grabbed hold to a brush And painted, using perfection as my medium I created a mural of sheer beauty along the borders of my sanity Creating a frame around the life no one has ever lived But I will