Expectations,

But not exceptions,

This is how I ought to be.

Maybe in your eyes,

To some other person,

Maybe a great goddess,

Maybe a prissy princess,

Perhaps even a porcelain doll,

Flawless, untouchable,

Beautiful, pristine,

Never stepping in the mud,

Falling, twisting my ankle,

Breaking my face in two.

But see, I already have fallen

And cursed my weak ankles.

My face is scarred,

And my eyes see clearly

I’m in the mud.

You don’t really see me.

You don’t know who I am.

Maybe I was never even there to you.

I’ll stand, walk away from this incident,

Which incidentally, never happened in your eyes.

Like what you’ve read?  Please subscribe to my blog, where I post a poem every Tuesday.