歌词

There is a woman
inside me
who carries a measuring tape

She notices everything.
The sentence
that could have landed better.

The detail
slightly out of place.
The tiny error
hidden inside
an otherwise beautiful thing.

She remembers
what I forgot.
She revisits
what I thought
was finished.

She can find
the loose thread
in a room
full of fabric.

Sometimes,
I am grateful
for her.
She has taught me
to care.
She has made me
return to the work
when I could have
settled for good enough.

She has sharpened
my eye.
Improved my craft.
Made me attentive
to things
other people
might overlook.

But perfection
has a dangerous
little appetite.
It can eat
satisfaction
without making
a sound.

One hundred things
can go right,
and she will sit quietly
beside the one
that did not.

A finished project
becomes another
inspection.
A compliment
is followed
by a correction.

A good day
is searched
for evidence
of what could
have been better.

You could have done more.
You should have seen that.
Why did you miss this?
Look again.
Look harder.

I know that voice.
I have lived
under its roof.

There have been days
when I could not receive
my own achievement
without immediately
looking for somewhere
to improve it.

I am learning
the difference now
Excellence asks
for attention.
Perfection demands
punishment.

I still want
to do beautiful work.
I still care
about quality.

I still want
to grow beyond
what I can do today.

But I no longer want
my standards
to become a courtroom
where I am always
the defendant.

A mistake
can be corrected
without becoming
a character reference.

A poor decision
can be examined
without becoming
a permanent description
of who I am.

There must be room
for looking back
without turning
every imperfection
into a confession.

I do not want
to become so skilled
at noticing what is wrong
that I become blind
to what is beautiful.

The measuring tape
can stay.
I simply want
to teach her
when to put it down.

There are things
worth improving.
There are also things
worth appreciating
while they are still
becoming.