picture a girl
my age
my height
my same hazel eyes
she’s good at everything
and the best at nothing
running on the looping
track
society forced
upon her
an offering to the gods
to gain their glory
and laurels of favor
only to drag
her mangled body
across the finish line
day after day
because maybe
just maybe
if she confronts burnout
with a smooth smile
on her face
she will finally be
enough
but she’s still
over-thinking
under-eating
just to
f
l
o
a
t
through life
she’s the picturesque
palatable tragedy
the perfect paradox
of the little engine that could
endlessly chugging up the hill
pushing the boulder
only for it to roll back
down
because that little engine
can only think she can
for so long
until her coal
turns to ash
until happy thoughts
are not enough
until her momentum
runs dry
and she will
inevitably
f
a
l
l
there is no progress
without struggle
so she is searching for
a truth she can swallow
without choking
on what is meant to be
easily digested
perfect grades
so no one asks
what’s wrong
so the facade remains in place
she plays the part
of the first born daughter
on her hero’s journey
like odysseus
trying to avoid the slaughter
housed within the walls
home to her perpetual prison
the saying goes
first is the worst
and second is the best
but second is the first loser
so maybe it’s better
she lets charybdis consume
her imperfections
deep
down
inside
she wants to follow
the compass
back to ithaca
not the clock
but that doesn’t stop
time
from ticking away
faster than she can blink
tick
tick
tick
g o n e
