Your Expectations

So many preparations, regulations, expectations,

so many people expecting me to people-please their purposes.

Since when am I your puppet and

since when are you my planner?

Since when can I not make the choice

to make my own decisions?

Why should I stay in your hometown? Keep living in your house?

Your house, your rules. My life, my rules?

Or have I just conformed?

 

Are you right when you say that I won't be okay

if I make my own decisions?

Will I ever have a moment when I let myself show 

what I am truly capable of?

Or am I playing Cinderella, folding laundry, washing dishes,

watching life pass by from the sidlines,

waiting to be handed a happy ending

that I know will never come?

 

You expect me to make my own destiny

because no one gets handed their dreams.

Yet I can't work for what I want,

I can't fight what I'd rather not become,

because of the demons still inside me

and because I'm trapped in your reality.

I try to chart my own course

then you hand me yours

and I lose myself in the confusion

because deep down inside

I don't know what I want

and it's easier to just watch it happen for me

even though I know it never will on its own.

 

I want to someday stand up and make my own life,

my own choices, my own destiny that I can be proud of.

But until then, I'm all yours,

under your roof, your rules,

waiting for the day when I can take life by the reins

and find a way to my own life course.

I hope that in the end, I'll meet your expectations,

but it won't really matter if I can't first meet my own.

This poem is about: 
Me

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