Rushing, always rushing,

Really no time to look back for what you wish was coming.

Movement, perpetual movement,

Making steps towards the revolution.


"You're so strong," they always said,

"You must have everything straight in your head."

But her eyes water at night when she tries to rest,

But her head hurts with the efforts to be the best.


Independence is the goal, but where is the path?

Illusions presented pretty, but where is the underlying wrath?

She struggles to be better than good enough,

Striving to never have them call her bluff.


The memoir of her life,

Turns out she isn't so bright.

Even still she plasters on a smile,

Eternally muttering internally "just hold on for a little while."


"We wear the mask that grins and lies,"

Wrote Paul Laurence Dunbar penning genuis lines.

How amazing it is, the facade she wears,

How complex it is, the facade she wears.





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