Perfection

You are not a cheerful person,
but not sad, either.
Careful, I think, says it best;

always anxious to see what comes:
whether failure
or criticism of what you’ve done.

Praise slides right by as on Teflon
on the way to Greece
or wherever perfection’s been achieved.

Your desire to be perfect is a curse.
You can’t achieve it.
You know it, so try to buy it,
but are much too cheap.

That deep black hole
has shadowed you all of your life.
You’re a moral cripple.
If you were honest, you would know why.