Poetry Analysis

Lost. Lonely. Disappointed. I expected to be great, to step into a life that felt like mine, to hold good things in my hands, to earn respect not just for what I do, but for who I am.

I want to shine. I want to be noticed. I want my story to matter. I want to be a great mother, to nurture without losing myself.

I want to get away— from the whispers, from the judgement that sits heavy on my shoulders, from ridicule that cuts deeper than words.

But fear follows me. Afraid to try, afraid to fail, and yet, my eyes remain on me, searching for strength in the mirror, watching hope slip like sand through the cracks of age and experience.

Advice comes here and there, but mostly empty words. Empty pockets, unmet needs, and yet I rise. Even when hope feels lost, I rise.

I will rise for the me that wants to shine, for the mother I am yet to be, for the dreams I refuse to let die. Because I am more than my fears. I am more than their judgement. And even when the world doesn’t notice, I will notice me.