Like butter over too much bread
They expect me to be overstretched in life.
Each and every day I dread
The mistakes I will make, despite my endless strife.
There’s no room for my mistakes
And nowadays I can’t forgive myself,
Nowadays every failure makes me shake
With tears and decomposing mental health.
“I must be pretty and incredibly smart,
I must be influential and always upbeat,
I must show the world the size of my heart,
And I must be perfect,” they have me repeat.
And what if I’m not?
Then I won’t go to college, or have a good career
I won’t be happy – or so I am taught.
Now each tiny failure is painfully severe.
In high school people believe that someone
Is whatever others brand them to be;
To others, I am a robot who never has fun
When really I’m restrained, longing to be free.
All the time I try my best
To overcome this restrictive box
Of words and expectations, lest
Another’s definition makes me something I’m not.
There is no forgiveness, no restoration
From my world and its great expectation.