Her crinkled eyes show lines of feigned contentment,
Veiling the gritted resignation within.

Every proverbial step taken was always slightly off
So little that it wasn't noticeable at the time,
Though it took her to an unintended destination.
Never understanding why she would exude so much of herself
And never obtain what she wanted.
Going over past steps ad nauseam, wondering where she faltered.
At which point did she start in the wrong direction
How can she get back
Should she even try
When it's unknown if anything will be left
Aside from an abandoned piece of herself
If she were to return.

You can't go backwards in life
But who says you can't circle back?