She’s a disappointment
To many. Well, maybe several,
Loved, yet, criticized.

Sometimes, after talking on the phone,
She feels washed out. She is
A disappointment, while
Slightly maniacally genius. Ah, but,
That genus of genes rakes feelings,
As you’d suppose.

She’s coming to believe
Truthful speaking of self
Leaves others traumatized.
She’s unacceptable, but, not
As some fantasy, as reality,
Torn apart by vigilant eyes
Of others minds.

She hears about people
Who are so wonderful,
And, knows she will
Never be ‘so wonderful’.
She wonders if that’s okay,
Knowing it isn’t, by proxy.

She feels too old to fall on knees
Not working, through Love, and Age.
Knows eternity’s miles
Are disembarking, somewhere
In the ‘Universe’. Not here, though,
Not yet, not again. Sometimes eternity
Loves a small house, sometimes,
Star-meadows of hows…

Sometimes, after talking on the phone,
She feels wrung out by
Family, she knows she is
A disappointment, loved,
Yet, criticized. She understands
The feeling, as you’d suppose.

She’s a disappointment, made
By many, well, maybe by herself,
Loved, yet, criticized.

Sometimes, she thinks
She is lucky.