I'm asked to chase perfection.
I mostly meet this, but I am still occasionally missing.
That's not what you want in the field of battle.
No one wants a mom, or lover, to comfort them while they are trying to kill the enemy and make a name for themselves.
Apron strings are not allowed.
Reputation for perfection...
I know that's how you get paid more.
I know it means less work and less value.
I see how I became a burden.
I see how my singular mistake compounded with other singular mistakes and how within a month, my chances are now minimal.
I've proven I'm not perfect.
I won't make it into the core,
when all along I just wanted to be part of the band.
I didn't need the stars or stripes, if I had the other men beside me.
I had been part of a team.
The team wasn't perfect...
and that's the sad beauty of it.
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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