This is more than a little bit rough around the edges, but here’s a poem I just wrote.
Jennifer Cole is in a hole made out of expectations.
She never knew what she should think or be.
Her so-called friends, all lay in wait with specious depredations
They dug down deep and stole her joy and peace.
She’s sitting in the aftermath of their soulless predations.
Jennifer Cole oh don’t you know there’s so much more out there.
Facedown at her lowest ebb, a sound attracts her ear.
A sound she'd loved, still bright and sweet and kind.
The workers of her pained condition gloat, they crow and jeer.
She rises to her feet with eyes that shine.
They fall back in dismay as she erupts into the air.
Crying and laughing, leaving them behind.
Jennifer Cole, oh now you know their words can’t find you here.