I know no thresholds,
I ain’t perfectionist,
But feeling like I’ve something,
That makes me believe in breathing.
I have no hourglass body exceptionally crucial,
Or nothing which looks marvellous.
But I ain’t no masterpiece or the bloom of your balcony.
I can’t divulge myself, with just beauty,
Darling, it’s nothing for me.
All the grind I’ve got,
All the grazes and all the confusion,
Of being accurate about everything,
Is horrifying for me.
I’m more about undone myths,
Being a bird without wings.
I have my world in my giggling
it’s beautiful and smothering.
Darling, I ain’t no perfectionist.