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Tonight I sit with my pen and my bottle,
Wondering how it ever came to this:
Raised to stand up straight, bend to the rule,
Try to do good, try to be right, be the bigger man.

Fuck being perfect, I'm not scared of being flawed,
They can take their smug answers,
Take their condescending tones,
I've had enough of pleasing others.

It's really not that hard to do what they say,
but when it yields so little results,
Who am I to argue that there's a better route?
Embrace the imperfection, we're not meant to be whole.