her ego is frail, an old cautious tale
unable to tell, for her what
is well
wordplay on "well-to-do." she both does not know what is good for her, she does not know wealth/does not seek it. she does not have connections to that network
to do and to meet,
wordplay on "well-to-do." she both does not know what is good for her, she does not know wealth/does not seek it. she does not have connections to that network
a frightening feat she burrows inside, the edge of defeat
tis grandeur she seeks, a splendid facade
obscures what she did, or maybe did not
all crumbling down, all costing her look
with apathy rife, was all that it took
and so fawn'd in place, and yet not to please
(fawning is a response akin to fight/flight wherein the person fawns to a person in hopes of resolving or minimizing conflict) slightly oxymoronic. she is technically freezing in this state, but can be read as fawning for herself instead of others.
of feeble
account
importance
, one never at ease for she wants the world, but none what's inside
for she lives her own, until her demise
about this poem
this is about navigating adulthood as someone who was quite sheltered by their guardians early in life. directionless, i did not know what to make of my life except the ideals that were passed down to me by my (well-intentioned) parents that was a major mismatch to my actual personality. it's about being frozen in place and wanting to achieve great things but stifled by perfectionism i become merely apathetic.the fear of dissapointing others and being less than their expectations frustrate me, and i'd rather life in my own bubble
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