Flawed

Her fatal flaw shows nothing trite
She is not proud, nor always right
She does not need to have her way
Nor does she want to have her say
And yet she is closed-up, uptight

She snorts and grinds her teeth at night
and thinks grim thoughts of waste and blight
not knowing how to send away
Her fatal flaw

It plagues her, morning, noon and night
There is no respite from her plight
Procrastination fills her day
It turns her soul from gay to gray,
turns black and raw what should be white
Her fatal flaw
.