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Drowning

The pressure to be perfect
eats away at me until
there is nothing left
only a cold shell of what was.

The pressure to be perfect
is a constant ghost in the back of my mind
a sickly sweet stench that never leaves
the force that forever propels my foreward.

The pressure to be perfect
is an inner demon I battle with every waking moment
each slash it takes makes me hate myself even more
beating after beating it become to strong to fight.

The pressure to be perfect
is suffocating me from the inside out



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