The Line

When I was born

my mother drew for me

a line in the sand

She told me this

was the standard

and I nodded my little head

I learned to trace that line

over and over again

Until it became ingrained

to my being

Deeper and deeper

always right above me

My mother soon left

to let me fend on my own

But still, she left the standard

that haunting line

That hovers over and pressures me

everyday of my life.