AN: A poem completely about my stupid pefectionist problem. ^~

Unwilling am I to reach down into the earth,
For fear rests under every foot deeper.
What evils may lie within, I do not know,
But a chain linked by fright holds me back.
I do not want to turn from my curtained world,
Even though I know an open window lies behind.
I do not wish to know evil,
But I know that I must.
Why cannot all be perfection? That would be my utopia.
But it shall never exist,
For perfection is as obscure as absolute happiness.