The Price of Perfectionism [poem]

The Naked Troubadour

Perfectionism

There is a price to be paid for perfectionism’s
purple pros(e)aically prejudiced plume
which we can grownly assume is roughly equal to:
EITHER
ª  The harsh disapproval directed one’s way
     [for high expectations will always dismay
     as low self-esteem and a lack of resolve
     result in resentment, so none get involved!].
OR
ª   The aloneness one has (dressed in freedom’s disguise)
    [for almost the whole world will run for their lives
    when they hear of the earnest desire to preserve
    one’s nature unswervingly: “He’s got a nerve!”]

So nextly I have a small question to ask
of readers who’d throw me a bone in this task:
“Is perfectionism after all merely protectionism?”
[pause for a snigger and spluttery laugh]
For in clean isolation where humans dare not go
(as angels beat them to it many…

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