Lines

When she was young she would color.

The bright colors lighting up the page as she did.

She tried her best to stay within the lines.

But if even on thin strand of wax dared to stray

From within the confining lines, it would earn her

A disapproving, you’ll do better next time smile

From her teacher and a sad feeling

In the pit of her stomach

For she had failed.

 

But now she is older

And she believes all the line the handsome boy tells her.

But she is not good enough, and he leaves, just like everyone else.

And this earns her a sad you’ll do better next time smile

From her parents as she explains why they will

Never meet this boy, and an emptiness

In the pit of her stomach.

For she had failed.

 

But now she is older.

And the lines on her wrists and arms tell the stories

Of her failures. And she tries her hardest not to make any more.

But it is too hard. And this earns her a pitying you’ll do better next time

Smile from her friends, when she comes to school

In long sleeves. And she feels nothing.

For she has failed yet again.

 

But now she is grown.

And she scribbles a few final lines on a scrap of paper.

And she gives herself a relief filled you’ll do better next time

Smile, as she slips off the edge of that bridge.

For she has failed for the last time.