Poem #325

We believed in her, we knew she would succeed.
We pushed her forward to do the right things.

But you didn’t believe, you imposed expectations.
You didn’t push towards the right thing,
you made her achieve what you found acceptable.

A now you are turning a blind eye.
You say she is a grown woman,
but you forget she is a product of what you’ve done.

She shouldn’t let herself go,
she should achieve more,
where is the ring and the baby, in that order
why doesn’t she cook more?

She had to be the best, show them how it’s done
but now she is in the adult world frozen
when she can’t outmatch everyone.

To uphold the city of expectations,
she became the ruin that lies underneath.

She has the house, the car, the job, the family
everyone yelling in her ear she should be happy,
she’s got the dream
but no one asks if it was her’s to begin with?

From someone who always strived for more,
she became a thing that wants to be sedated.

When the pictures of what could’ve been and what could be
turn gray because of what is, she puts some ashes over her tears,
and makes her body burn from a numbing liquid.

In the quiet of the night, during stolen moments of solitude,
she drowns what’s left of her soul in vices just to feel something.

Every morning she screws the smile back on
and pushes through the routine because
she is scared to show that the dream is making her
wish she had never fallen asleep.

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