She hates that she is spineless:
Starved of strength
Emancipated.

She hates that she is passive:
She has two legs
But cannot stand for anything
When faced with a loud voice
And menacing words
That threaten the tranquility of her dream-world;
The dream-world
Where conflict is banned
And people always have the best intentions
Because in essence man is good.

She hates that
When faced with a thousand possibilities
Tensions rise
And gears stick
Creak
Metal on metal
Straining
Pushing
As she tries not to succumb to her nature
But in spite of it all
Her head overheats
And she overloads
The perpetual screaming kettle, *** boiling over, and volcanic eruption
All in one

Tiny salted droplets of shame
Race down flushed and swollen cheeks
As her mental fists
Painstakingly punch her essence
Into action
Fueling a transformation with
"Inadequate"
"Failure"
And
"Lazy"

A transformation
That never sticks:
At least not as well as
Her lack of faith in herself.