"She is lofty and proud, prideful at best
Her waist too great, her ego still greater."
Satisfying others becomes her only success
Yet only recalling the sneers of people who hate her.
People who tell her how she ought not be
As though, when forming, He begot a mere "thing."
Though scorned by the lowest of peasantry
She's viewed as a princess in the eyes of The King.
People who tell her she lacks talent
As though they themselves have not struggled with balance.
What hurts her the most, what she always remembers
People who tell her how to be her
And people who say that she's a failure.
She comes close
But no one can tell me I did not try.
Ace of nothing but jack of the rest
Poetry is no different, I lack in etiquette
The rhyme and reason of words, I confess
Rhymes so near but [I'm] never quite adequate.
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