Pressure

“No one expects you to be perfect.”

The lies ring in my ears.

How much of this is reality?

How much of it is fears?

They all do expect the best from me.

I see it in their eyes.

All their voices call it out to me;

Compliments, needy cries.

They’re surprised when I make a mistake.

If I fail, they’re all “screwed!”

“Wait, you got this wrong?” Okay, I did!

You’re ruining my mood.

I do know it’s not intentional,

the pressure I can feel.

For it’s me who makes me feel the worst.

My flaws I must conceal.

Oh, it’s not their fault, but yet it is.

My fault is just worth more.

Yes, that sentence is true to my mind;

yet I’m doing better than before,

yet my confidence may win this war,

yet peace I may soon find.