The poem
I'm done expecting life to run
like some well-oiled machine,
Half the time I'm organised,
the rest is pure caffeine.
Plans go out the window,
priorities disappear,
And getting through the fucking day
can count as winning here.
I'm not dressing up the chaos
just to make it look refined,
Some weeks I'm absolutely smashing it,
some weeks I'm miles behind.
Perfect's overrated and exhausting as fuck,
I'd rather wing it honestly than pretend
I've got my shit sewn up.
The design
Comfort Colors® 1717, with the Editorial design printed on the front.