Exchanges

I don’t recall life coming with a warranty,
some guarantee my heart would never break
nor my brain wouldn’t slip a gear or two.

But didn’t keep her from having a manual
where I was measured and my actions directed,
molded and trimmed,
unable to equal the paragon
of her fantasies.

Had a yardstick for my behavior,
if I won a single victory
shame on me for not winning two.

Pushing me into a pit,
covered in slime and told it was my fault,
showing pictured of air brushed models
that were to her the norm.

Tried to survive in my depression
until finding somewhere to exchange my being,
get a transplant and new image,
so I would be worthy in her view.

But every change brought more complaints,
nothing ever gained approval,
hate grew on inside towards my own existence,
surely it was my lack of quality,
otherwise I would have appeased.

Then one day I found someone
with a different measure rod,
growing so much height
when inches were checked by love.