The Truth About Perfection

Orderly chaos fitted to a tee.
Ideal positions closing in on me.
Rhythmic footsteps to a hollow heartbeat.
Curbs become asphalt under flawed feet.
Nonexistance taunts, "This is your fault."
Breaths become self-inflicted assault.

I should just decide to end it all.
Defect will be my final call.
Resist control, let myself go.
'Maybe, someday' I will glow.
Nobody's flawless, well, that's a lie.
But moving on, now I am just I.

I am individual, not like the rest.
I am happy with myself, and don't need to be best.
But still, it's only things that just might
So, now even being wrong isn't right.
Desired precision, now of that I lack.
Finally gone, now you want it back.

In the end, all I have is a make-believe affection.
Striving, now I see, the truth about perfection.

A difficult read. I am trying to understand where the last line fits with the line before that and so on. There is a LOT of rhyming in it. I think that is where the difficulty of reading it comes from. Try focussing less on rhyming and more on the message you are trying to get across. KEEP this draft! because there are some really good lines in it.

Now I ask you...

What IS "the truth about perfection"?