Fool's Errand (a poem)

"Be perfect;"
"Do it perfectly;"
these deadly phrases
sown with barbed wire thread
into the seams of the ill-fitting fabric
draped heavily,
awkwardly
across weary shoulders.
Traipsing about
as if wearing high fashion,
something beyond avant garde,
down life's runway
chest out
head held high
ignoring the searing pain
all for the sake
of the crowd;
no,
of the ego.
New scars
reveal themselves each day,
evidence of the futile effort,
the fool's errand,
to attempt
to wear such a garment
with grace.
Today,
this ridiculous garb
is left lying crumpled on the floor
in the very place
where it was removed
the night before.
Its presence is haunting.
Its memory every present.
But it must not be worn
ever again . . .
ever again . . .