I am losing ground,
disinterest piling up,
suffocating – I moan
childish communication
enraged, and humiliated,
hurt; my opinion more
impulse than acceptable
relatives bitch, correct,
dethrone me – an outsider
sidling in, like a politician
mingling, lingering, attacked
why am I so dependent
on this oddball interaction?
celebration is just a formality
and my enthusiasm misplaced
but at least, I am present.
One Woman's Quest 