Perfect on Paper

Chapter 2 – Poem

This poem is a hushed confession, a glimpse behind the surface of “perfection.” It’s about the invisible cost of flawless appearances—the hidden cracks beneath the mask everyone admired but never truly saw.

I was perfect on paper—
a flawless script in ink and print,
each A+ a promise,
each gold medal a quiet scream.

A mask carefully crafted,
smooth and shiny,
hiding the cracks beneath,
the sweat behind the smile.

They applauded the surface—
the neat handwriting,
the honors on a resume,
the well-rehearsed speeches.

But no one saw the weight,
the unseen battles fought
in shadows behind the curtain,
the cost of striving until I nearly broke.

Perfect on paper—
like a painting admired,
but never touched,
never truly known.

The cost of perfection was silence,
a slow fading of the self,
an unspoken forgetting
of what it means to feel whole.

So I convinced myself to keep bending—
to excel, to earn my freedom.
But the promised new chapter
never begins unless we close the last one.

And in that strife,
I learned the hardest truth:
being perfect
was never enough.