Misplaced Pride
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I've sat on my thumbs for years
Ruled the roost of toiling away
My troubles and fears
So willing to abide
I was the image of ambition for my mother's misplaced pride.
But I am merely a girl
Who wrestled and raged
And aged too fast for this world
More naive than I'd like
And more dangerous than I desired
And though my hands are small
I have beaten a few but in no way have I won them all
I still dream thinking it'd be nice
To unravel these strings that hold me upright
For when pulled every which way by expectations I didn't make
How can I keep to that path so narrow and strange
So what difference does it make
If I sleep with eyes open
Eternally hoping to lie convinced I'm awake
I know my voice is still just one inch tall
But if I stand on my toes
Will I reach anyone at all