She is Only a Weed, a poem

I broke out of form and actually wrote two fourteen line poems today.  This one did not have a challenge attached to it, but it is more difficult for me to restrict lines in a poem, because I usually allow the poem to dictate its length.  Enjoy!

 

She must falter, when the winds do blow
but she holds the reigns, holds the reigns tight
and with equal measure, she holds that smile
even when she feels it is improperly dressed upon her lips
despite the tears that want to find their voice among the leaning reeds
a solemn sound escapes their barren souls as wind brushes in through the trees
and she feels the emptiness course through her weary soul
the backs of trees lean beneath the weight, but she cannot afford to shed a tear
unless the rains do come, and as the torrents tear across the valley
she may shed a tear or two, hoping that they falter unrecognizable among the raindrops
for she is cognizant of watchful eyes and her poise requires a steadfast pose
the world shall demand of her nothing less than perfection
but the imperfect ways of her soul bleed within her veins and she can do nothing
she is only a weed growing beneath a beautiful landscape of perfect garden rows.

© Sumyanna 2017