Friday, March 19, 2010

Stress case

She ran out of track a mile back,
but she’s still running; she still thinks it’s a race.
She doesn’t realize there’s no prize.
She’s still running; she still thinks there’s a first place.

If she’s going to try, she aims high.
She keeps pushing; she keeps setting new goals.
The only direction is perfection,
so she keeps pushing, keeps in complete control.

When a chance asks her to dance,
she’s not sleeping; she’s harvesting crops.
Even when she’s dead tired in bed,
she’s not sleeping; it never stops.

If her world starts coming unfurled
she’ll be burning, welding the shreds into one.
She’ll end her days in a fiery blaze,
she’ll be burning. She’ll burn out like the sun.



This poem wasn't written about anyone in particular, I just wanted to play with rhymes.



Photo by the Yohkoh solar observatory, 1991



        How much do you stress over making things perfect?

4 comments:

Dorkmaster Flek said...

I try not to stress about making things absolutely perfect, but probably quite a bit. :P I do it at work, particularly with this project I'm working on right now. How do I structure it, what's the best way to implement things and make it work with our existing system, etc.

Dorkmaster Flek said...

Also, whoa rhyming poem! :)

surya said...

Sometimes hope and expectation burn our spirit. So, why not we throw in to the basket the things we called stress
aniway, nice poem ;)

Claudia said...

This one sounds like a rap.

And I think you know me well enough to know how much of a perfectionist I am. Although I am trying to forgive myself more than I used to.