"She is lofty and proud, prideful at best

Her waist too great, her ego still greater."

Satisfying others becomes her only success

Yet only recalling the sneers of people who hate her.

People who tell her how she ought not be

As though, when forming, He begot a mere "thing."

Though scorned by the lowest of peasantry

She's viewed as a princess in the eyes of The King.

People who tell her she lacks talent

As though they themselves have not struggled with balance.

What hurts her the most, what she always remembers

People who tell her how to be her

And people who say that she's a failure.

She attempts

She fights

She comes close

Perhaps

She fails

She cries

But no one can tell me I did not try.

Ace of nothing but jack of the rest

Poetry is no different, I lack in etiquette

The rhyme and reason of words, I confess

Rhymes so near but [I'm] never quite adequate.