It’s the little bumps
When you are closer than ever to joy
That hurt the most.
When you can actually see your dream on the horizon-
And then the pall is thrown over.
The taunting voice of the second grade bully:
Telling you that you are ugly and
No one would ever want you.
Stupid for believing
That you might get what you want.
First love telling you
The truth about the weekend away.
A mother’s gentle voice
Suggesting that you
Forget your dreams,
And submit to the present reality.
New love telling you
Just this last time…