Derangement

Derangement

Save us from the lunatic known as the perfectionist

You see their anguished faces as they butter then pierce the toast

Their minds all shattered, neutrons in civil war

Good is not enough as it clashes with their deranged order of the drawer

Oh the pleasurable urge that I get, to ruffle and disturb

Just to witness in joyful glee their faces perturbed

Nature too resents their mental splurge

For it sets them up to frequently fail as their efforts emerge

Perfectionists love the square because it pins within

Their allied affliction is the penchant for control, that sin

Want to see them jump, then shout: Control Freakazoid!

They’ll remember their dominant father and begin a cleaning chore

Poor perfectionists with their unearned guilt of idleness

I observe them with derision and enjoy even more my thoughtlessness

Forever will they be dissatisfied with the world

Alas for them it’s not what is, but always what ought to be