The perfect saint

I'm supposed to be perfect Without one flaw The patient one The one that understands But I'm not I never was those things They keep putting burdens on my chest that I can't solve Then in the end, they blame me for not being enough As if it's my fault I'm not a saint My fault I didn't carry the weight of sins thrust upon me I'm supposed to stay pure and clean And if I'm anything short of that, I'm exiled I try to be what they need I work day and night, trying to be the patient, sweet, all forgiving angel they think I am But I can't I cry at night as they force feed me to eat the guilt I never should have felt But even as much as I try, I'm like a dog on a leash And every time they take my kindness for weakness, the leash tightens And there's just so much pressure one leash can take It breaks I get set free But not the version of me they want me to be But the rough, unpolished real version of me The one full of guilt and envy And then, the facade cracks I get thrown away, cause what's the point of a saint If it's not perfect? But then again I'm not a saint I never claimed to be one So why do they force that role on me? Why do they need me to be perfect? Just to be loved?