I feel this pressure
Everyday to be perfect
My hair
My clothes
Looks, grades, aditude
Everything
I can’t handle it anymore.
I just want to be good enough.
I want to be wanted.
I want to be right.
Will I ever be good enough for you?
Pretty enough, smart enough, nice enough…
I won’t will I?
I’ll never be perfect.
But maybe, just maybe….
Never….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem