Perfect Poem by erica green

I'm sorry.

Who knows the real meaning of perfect,
When it's too late,
you can't go back,
never will you be able to go and change the things you say,
you won't be able to live but once,
So how do you know if your doing things perfectly?

I can't tell if things that I'm doing's right or wrong,
people disown me,
tell me I'm too fat to deserve to be alive,
say I'm ugly,
Are you supose to be perfect to live a perfect life?

I don't write perfect poems,
I don't ride horses perfectly,
I don't look perfect,
I don't have perfect hair,
So am I leading a perfect life?