every day, the same old thing
until living was a routine
everything became insignificant
like i was just seeing life through a screen

i set my own standards so high
they were impossible to reach
with this relentless need to be nothing but perfect
eating away at me like a leech

this need for perfection is like hunger
but how do i satisfy an incurable ache?
'cause i've been starving all my life
and that, imperfection can't satiate