there were no "atta-girls" at hand
no high fives, nor marching bands
perfection was the only stand...
I never made the grade.
as the eldest in the flock
carefree days were not in stock,
nurturing, my culture shock...
as entry-level maid.
chores assigned, inspected by
gestapos with the eagle eye...
regardless of best effort's ply
I failed, yet, every grade.
our little flock, a band of five
mom a nurse, who worked to thrive.
dad, a lush with backhand drive,
fear and anger did prevail
in this prison without bail
a life of chaos and travail
one secret grand charade.
I walked away from this sweet nest
having given all my best
dropped out before my final test,
to run and seek first aid.
I, though now a woman, old,
relinquish to the past its hold
striving for what seems fool's gold
to finally make the grade.
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