They said I should sell myself,
But I didn’t know how.
Writing reams, connecting seams of a future undone.
By societies ideologies and an unknown desire to be successful.
To make money, to be good.
Like I know I should be, but it’s hard to see why a girl like me,
should rise to the top; be the best?
I’ve seen doting teenage mothers, broken families and a society with benefits piling, finding joy.
The rest are filing for divorce, regulars in court, committing crimes and never doing time.
It hurts, when you don’t understand your place.
Hatred and greed, feeding tongues that don’t need feeding anymore.
Seems I’ve been blind.
Head in the transience of time, prancing my way through an education.
Now, a resurrection
Creativity once buried but never lost, and ignited now.
Like a Phoenix, burning bright, dancing and loving like never before.
Being scared? Yeah, scared.
Conforming? Conforming leads to yawning.
Dawning. Yearning. Keep on burning.
Someone might pull the plug, and I’ll lose it all.
But it’s my drug and I’m dancing this addiction.
To a life of creating, earth-quaking, knee-shaking, love making.
You’ll never bring me down.
Happiness, no less. That’s my success.
Throwing myself to the deep.
Taking what I was born to have,
what I was promised to be given.
By them, to keep.
© Stacie Lee Bennett-Worth, 2013