White picket fence.

You make yourself out to be so damn perfect.
You spend day after day cleaning your white picket fence.
Scouring pad in your right, Clorox by your side, elbow grease in ample supply.
Maybe, if you scrub hard enough, the chips in the paint will disappear.
Every day, you work to make the flaws less noticeable.
But all you're really doing is drawing attention to the problems.

Your white picket fence, your lily-white reputation, your alabaster complexion.
It's probably not my place to tell you that it's not important.
So, instead, I stare out the window and wonder:
When will you realize?
There's no shame in buying paint.