The 7 stages of a not so perfect girl

Stage 1:
They tie off the knot and she’s as free as can be
Without experience or knowledge is she
She is let out in world
Untouched and beautiful
She wails and then waddles
And life is just great
This might be her happiest state

Next is stage 2
She knows she is as free as can be
School is easy and fun when you learn A,B,C
The pig-tails and giggles may fool some
But the tantrums and screams are what really come
She better hold on tight, cause a time out
isn’t the only strike to come about

Finally here comes stage 3
She only thinks she is as free as can be
But life’s about to strike her hard when she’s a teen
There’s high school, friends, and boys that could be
But locked in her room is where she’ll dream
Of pebbles being thrown to her fourth balcony

Stage 4 is here at last
As they send her far, far away
Finally she can feel, her freedom today
Until red and blue flash before her eyes
The telephone rings and to her mothers surprise
It’s her daughter calling, sounding glazed and weary
“I need your help.” She cries
And suddenly everything’s dreary

Time has passed and she’s onto stage 5
She’s lost in the world not knowing where to dive
She needs to find a job, a man, a house, and a car
Oh and of course money is the real star
She weeps alone in her dark apartment
Maybe freedom was not what she wanted

Stage 6… what a great time to be alive
She thinks she is so free without any guide
But little does she know
No peer is what freedom is comprised
Her husband and her and her four little kids
From soccer to piano to guitar and more
These things distract them from acknowledging her daily chore
“I do so much but no one cares, I try to help but you all just stare”
Night after night in screaming fights

Stage 7 is the last, the end of them all
Where life finally surrenders the brawl
As she takes her last breathe
And lets it out in one long sigh
She knows this is her time to die
Yet she is not sad or regretful
For she knows freedom is awaiting
Freedom comes when your soul’s at rest
Freedom comes only at death

Rebecca Latham ’19

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