Dying to please

The slightest thing

I take as offense

Even if someone just

passes me

Sensitive and less significant 

I feel

the pressure to please

Begging for you to like me

I work hard to please 

All the men.

I feel them come into my line

I feel them staring.

I feel it is a man…

Who is staring at me?

Do you like what you see?

Or am I just not going fast enough 

For you?

I just want everybody 

To like me in the store

And on the road

Coworkers 

Strangers

Employers

All for my self-esteem

How low it must be 

for me to need

complete strangers to like me

I hardly have time

For anybody now

I want to beat 

traffic like some

people do

Like those fucking trucks!

I think of them as rude customers

I never know 

How it will be 

on the road -

Busy or slow or

empty.

I hate walking into

Work and

Seeing all the people 

/ Predicting their 

Thoughts

If they knew mine,

They'd be shocked...

People look at me, and

I both like 

and hate it.

I don't like following 

their rules of engagement.

I don't like how 

they make me feel

for not pretending.

Listening to voices

And conversations

It's all nonsense

I am sore from standing

in bad posture

I watch, in the corner of my eye,

someone in my line

I say fuck you 

To everybody who comes 

Into my line

I dream of guys seeing

me in my car 

And thinking I'm hot.

Who do I think is watching?

No one.

How can I stop?

I don't think I can do this

much longer.

I feel, as I walk out,

A heavy weight crushing

my shoulders

I am numb now.

I don't feel
like myself.

I feel drunk and woosy

I don't know what I'm thinking.

I just want to get 

Home

Poetry

is my only source of hope

I guess

I'll just fake it

until I make it.