Better on Paper

I opened my eyes to no more uprise,
No more planning of my own demise.
My ears not faintly picking up any cries—
I finally had won the prize.

To be free and flee as I please,
Nothing pulling at my chest, dragging me to digress.
No others but me to impress.
I’ve always loved how I looked in that dress,

But the thoughts of others caused me not to express that.
I always failed to rise up against the press,
Instead choosing to redress, to satisfy the gaze of those lower down the tier.

Why did my fear engulf me as it schemed,
Plotting to make me a wretched version of my original being?