piling
up and up and up
on top of her
each one larger than the next
problems on top of problems
expectations
the cherry on top
piled on her will to live
that weakens
with every passing day
slowly fading away
just like she is
losing track of herself
slowly cracking, breaking
and when it ends
what will she be
will she even be her?
or just a shell
of who she used to be
bits and pieces of what survived
fragments from her collapse
her joy is felt, but temporary
her sadness lives on, continues
it never really ends
and it all starts now

everyone
everything
expects her to be good
do well
be perfect
oh honey
she's nowhere near fking perfect