At some point you must log off of Facebook,
Make chat rooms and telephones go silent.
Just sit and force yourself to take a hard look
At your life, though it may make you violent.
Our parents didn’t train us to survive.
Made us into Princes or Princesses,
Or a shy Cinderella, half alive.
Guaranteed we wouldn’t be successes.
We cannot soothe ourselves with fantasy,
Dreaming success only in our minds,
Where we are rich and sexy and sassy,
Beloved of all desirable kinds.
Sixty two years is long enough for lies
I want to see myself with open eyes.
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