I once believed I could ascend,
Like Nina's wings, my world to mend.
But failure came, a quiet thief,
Stealing dreams and sowing grief.
Now I stand in shadows deep,
Pretending that I never weep,
A narcissist, I wear a smile,
Wading through my own denial.
I tell myself, “I never cared—
Success was never what I bared.”
But deep inside, I twist the tale,
A story where my heart prevails.
Like sour grapes upon the vine,
I tell the world it’s fine, it's fine—
I didn't want the shining prize,
Just the freedom to despise.
I paint my death as noble grace,
A perfect end, a proud embrace.
A story crafted, sharp and sleek,
To hide the truth I dare not speak.
For Nina's tale is mine to tell—
A myth I forged to shield my shell,
Where failure’s sting is sweetly spun,
A victory I've already won.

I know I should leave, I know it's right,
But I’m too scared to face the fight.
So I push them away, I start the game,
Hoping they’ll leave, and I won’t take the blame.

I’m not strong enough to walk away,
So I make them leave, so I can stay.
I start the fights, I turn it cold,
I need them gone, so I don’t feel bold.

I know I should go, I know it’s true,
But I can’t find the strength to be through.
So I make them the ones to break,
Leaving me no choice but to fake.

I push, I hurt, I make them doubt,
So they’ll leave first, and I’ll be shut out.
It’s easier to make them run,
Than to be the one who’s finally done.

I know it's right, to end this here,
But I can’t face the pain or the fear.
So I make them leave, so they’re the ones,
To walk away when the battle’s won.

I can't let go, I can’t take the step,
So I make sure they leave me, with no regret.
I scare them off, I push them away,
So they leave me no choice, but to stay.

All my friends are parents now,
Talking of toddlers, teething, and how
Their little ones laugh, cry, and grow,
While I still speak of my parents—though
I’m grown, or so I’m told,
But to me, I’m always their child, still bold.

They share stories of school drops and sports,
Of tantrums and bedtime, of funny reports.
I nod, smile, and keep the pace,
But when I speak, I’m still in that place—
Where I talk about mom’s cooking,
Dad’s advice, and the way they’re looking.

I’m the one who’s not yet in the game,
But somehow, it’s all the same—
I tell them about the way I’m loved,
Like I’m still tucked in, safe, and snug.
They've got kids who run wild and free,
But I just need my parents, you see.

And maybe it’s a little odd,
To still crave their warmth like a child’s nod.
But in their eyes, I’ll always be
That little one who seeks the key
To their soft voices, steady hands,
To the place where no grown-up stands.

My cousins sigh, “Oh no, all my friends have husbands,”
They long for that love, the rings and the "musts."
They talk about weddings, the dresses, the plans,
As if love’s a prize that slips through their hands.

But here I stand with a grin on my face,
“Oh no,” I say, “All my crushes are placed—
With wives, with partners, with lives so complete,
It’s like every cute guy’s already off the street!”

They dream of the future, of rings on their hands,
But I’m just over here, in my own little lands.
I’m not chasing husbands, or marriage in sight,
I just want the thrill, the joy, the light.

They hope for a "he" to call their own,
But I’ve learned that I’m better off alone.
My crushes, they’re taken—oh, what a sight,
But I’m free, I’m fine, and I’m holding it tight.

So while they wish for what others have found,
I’m happy to wander, not tied to the ground.
“Wives and husbands?” they cry with despair—
But I laugh, “Oh, that’s just not my affair!”

I don’t crave the ordinary, the average, the plain,
The mundane, the usual, they drive me insane.
I’m drawn to the edges, the things they call taboo,
To love that’s forbidden, to passions that brew.

A life that’s exciting, not stuck in a rut,
I need the unexpected, the thrill in the cut.
I’m not tied down by what they all say,
No marriage, no norms, no rules that weigh.

I’m glad I’m not bound by tradition’s tight grip,
I’ve sailed far from that sinking ship.
The world may label me wild, strange, or insane,
But I find beauty in breaking the chain.

I’d never have an affair, that’s not my style,
But I admire the boldness, the daring, the guile.
Marilyn Monroe, a woman untamed,
She lived outside rules, her own name reclaimed.

I don’t need the ordinary, the plain, or the same,
I crave something different, I live without shame.
In my own space, I’m free and I roam,
Not trapped by the normal, I’ve made my own home.

So let them call me what they will,
I’m not chasing the ordinary, I’m chasing the thrill.
I’m not bound by their rules, their eyes, their views,
I’ll keep living loud, with nothing to lose.

They say getting older is something to dread,
Women my age, with worry and dread.
“Thirty’s too old,” they whisper, they cry,
Afraid to let go of the years that fly by.

But I don’t feel fear, I don’t feel that weight,
I’m happy to age, I don’t share their hate.
They worry about wrinkles, about slowing the pace,
But I’ve kept something pure no one can erase.

A childlike joy, a spark in my soul,
A sense of wonder, a heart that’s whole.
No matter the years, no matter the line,
I’ll always have that innocence, that light so divine.

They’re mad about time, about getting too old,
But I don’t see aging as something to scold.
I’ve lived with a spirit no age can confine,
I’m happy to grow, I’m happy to shine.

“Too old,” they say, as if it’s a crime,
But I don’t let those words steal my time.
I’ll smile through the years, keep dancing in place,
For no one can steal my joy, my grace.

So let them be angry, let them complain,
I’ll embrace every year, I’ll stand in the rain.
Age doesn’t change the light that I hold,
It just makes me stronger, it makes me more bold.

I’m not afraid of the years, not at all,
I’m happy to age, to stand tall.
And no one can take my innocence away,
Not with their “too old” or their bitter dismay.

I have no life, and so I live,
I don't pretend, I don’t forgive
The lie that "having a life" means cheer,
That building walls will make it clear
That happiness is something earned,
A prize to seek, a truth unturned.

While others rush to craft new plans,
To build their worlds in shifting sands,
They think they live, they think they’ve won,
But I know better—I'm not one
To build a life just to disguise
The aching truth that lies inside.

They chase the glitter, race the clock,
With therapy, friends, the endless talk,
They distract themselves from real despair,
While I sit still and breathe the air—
The truth that stings, the pain that’s real,
The world that doesn't care or heal.

In not engaging, I find a peace,
In silence, there’s a sweet release.
By doing nothing, I face it all,
And see the world for what’s its call.
The “life” they seek is just a lie,
A way to hide from truth, to try
And fill the gaps, to mask the ache—
But in the void, there’s no mistake.

I am alive in doing none,
I see the world as it’s undone.
While others “live,” they simply hide,
Building lives that sweep aside
The raw, the real, the truths we face—
But I’m content in empty space.