The Ways of the World

Always stopping myself
From living
Because I think I shouldn’t,
Because I can’t,
Because I have no right to do so.

Living is not something for me.
It’s not something I can do.
It’s something I must watch
And applaud
And congratulate,
But not participate in.
It’s not something I’m allowed to do.

I can’t dream either.
That is foolish of me.
That is not something I have time for.
That is a luxury,
Not a necessity.
What I need to do
Is submit,
To follow,
To listen,
To do as I am told,
To be quiet,
To go along with,
To be humble
And not bold,
Not my own person
With objections,
One who questions
The way things are.
I should be obedient,
Okay with not understanding,
And simply
Work hard.

But not at what I want to do
Or who I want to be.
I must work to be admired
By the eyes surrounding me.
It matters not
That I don’t believe
In what I’m told I should become,
Because in time I’ll surely see
It was the right thing to have done,
So whatever thoughts I have
Of living life how I see fit
Should completely be abandoned
And done away with.

There was nothing wrong with dreaming
When I was a little girl,
But by now I must have realised
The ways of the world.

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