At home, she is what she loves,

            Poetry, books, love songs (no matter how cheesy.)

At home, she is who she wants to be,

            A writer, a reader, a singer (no matter how far off key.)

At home, she is loved,

            By meter, and words, and people (no matter how hard she pushes them.)

But the world doesn’t take kindly to fulfilled people.

It will make you believe you sparkle and toss you aside with millions of other gems.

It will remind you, over and over again, that love does not make jobs, or apartments, or money.

It will tame you.

It will chisel you into: businesswoman, barista, personal assistant.

It will leave you under a pile of your abandoned love and watch as you cave under the weight of heartache.