Spontaneous Poetry (at Work)
Building ambition of sticks
of straws
on a windy day
to justify herself somehow.
Never has she really hated
Never has she despised
but she feels these things
only toward herself
This is always.
She builds castles of good
to hide all of her wordly flaws.
And all of those fancy castles
will crumble under stress.
If she can prove herself.
the world will see past her face
past her waist
past her breasts.
She never came to realize
the only one she needed to prove anything to
who judged her always
was herself.
About face, on that path of realization
she walks alone
through the dark wood
instead of the path of light.