The Perfectionist

I’m not really a perfectionist,
Everything doesn’t have to be just right,
It’s just that when it’s not,
I can’t sleep at night,

So when I saw a piece of paper,
That’s edges weren’t straight,
I realized that for a perfectionist,
It would have been perfect bait,

But instead of snatching it up
I just walked right by it,
And I smiled in my head,
So proud of what I just did,

But when it caught my eye again,
I just couldn’t hold back,
So I ran for a pair of scissors,
And soon began to hack,

After cutting for a few minutes,
I held it up and said, “There,”
For now that curvy line,
Was a perfect square,

I was so proud of my accomplishment,
Until I realized,
That what I’d just committed,
Was what I’d just denied.