His hands' felt of dirts
his rigid mother fretted.
Dad left regretted.
His old place's raided
by rats and roaches unafraid
mom liked sleep and lay.
He scored in all A's
and checked grammar/words for days
perfection never's waited.
He needed to cook fast
that chores to be cared aghast
no time's for his past.
Too much works undone
he slowly decided to choose one
only hands, to his vow.
Strict controls, freely flows
washing dirts, erasing hurts.
Logic and passion
of his
Perfectionist's Earned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem