The shards of brain piercing my heart.

Humanity hits hard
and I feel fragile.
Every hit breaks
another piece of glass
sending it throughout
my blood stream.
The shards of brain
piercing my heart.
I feel the holes opening
and their painful recovery
to close,
only to be opened again.
I can’t break free of this humanity,
of the make believe
I have come to believe in,
even if I see its flaws.
I try to keep up
with the standards
feeling a failure within me
although I don’t agree
with the traditions of the dead
and yet I strive for perfection.
What is perfection
besides dreams of someone else?
Perfection isn’t me
and perfection is often
rejected by my eyes
and yet I feel failure?
Because their beliefs
have burrowed so deep
within me.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina