Consistent through her glamorously public life,
Was a tricky and painful scream which no one heard,
One which rose from a place no human eyes could see,
One drowned by the caterwauls from within and everywhere
around,
Inhuman calls to be this and this and this and that,
Calls to be a perfect woman, a perfect wife, a perfect
sister, a perfect cousin,
A perfect niece, perfect employee, a perfect human being,
Superhuman extractions only fit for God,
Calls with an inviting diabolical stir,
All along she screamed screams drowned by all the noise of
life,
Screams so dulled by the bedlam of life she couldn’t heed
herself,
She wanted to just be a human being,
To be a woman,
The best one she could be,
She wanted permission to be foolish and unserious and silly
sometimes,
Permission to be unwise and unrealistic and annoying
sometimes,
Permission to be good but also to be bad and ugly sometimes,
Permission to be fallible and vulnerable and weak sometimes,
Permission to be naughty and broken and imperfect sometimes,
She was screaming for just one thing, one thing, just one
thing,
To be a human being,
Not a goddess!
