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Schleich Tales Poem
The world is so full of high expectations and standards, people expecting certain things at their very demand.
If you don't do it correctly the first time, they expect you to drop to your knees and beg for forgivness. The apology comes from you, not the one who hurt you.
They expect perfection, every word spoken or action done. When those things aren't up to their wishes, they get mad and put all the blame on you.
It's taken quietly, your purpose is to please them, not yell back or refuse.
Because if you did, that would not be good enough, you would not get forgiven.
After awhile it becomes a problem, people realize they can use you, and you'll just stand there and take it with a smile on your face.
You'll take each comment without a word, do whatever your asked when your told.
If you're too loud or too quiet, your told off for it and told to do beter.
The people pleasing could start as being happy to do things for people, seeing them happy with the favors you do happily.
Until its toxic and forced, they use you until your broken from the pain of it.
You no longer can find the joy behind it, no longer remember what it was like before people pleasing became your very existence.
Before being used and hurt, until you couldn't hold yourself together.
Eventually those people leave you, like you were just strung along and used all to be left like each little part you slowly lost of yourself was all for nothing.
You were nothing to them.
People whisper, you still get blamed for things you never did or said.
Even though you didn't do anything, you still feel quilty and blame yourself.
You told people you were fine, and did as everyone else asked around you like you were happy.
But being a people pleaser doesn't make you happy, it makes you feel used and horrible.
The nights you spend alone, overthinking every word said that could have upset someone.
Because clearly it had, or they wouldn't have snapped or demanded such things from you.
People pleasing becomes a mask you hold, until it becomes you and you no longer even understand who your true self is.
Don't fall to people pleasing, or it will take over your life.
People will hurt you, and ruin you.
Never for the better, since nothing good comes out of being used.
People pleasers need to find their people, people who love them and support them.
Instead of using you, until you break apart.
Copyright © Schleich Tales | Year Posted 2026
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Schleich Tales Poem
As the oldest daughter, life comes with expectations and standards.
People expect perfection, a mature person to be standing before them, ready to be the prime example for the younger ones.
I stand before people, put on a pedestal that I do not deserve, nor do I want.
I smile and laugh, I speak for those who need to be spoken for, I tell them facts and teach them how to get through life.
I teach them ow the world works, how to do the things that aren't explained, I am the oldest daughter.
My hands must be claped neatly when I sit, when I walk I must walk perfectly with my back straight, when I eat it must be with such good manners everyone there would be impressed.
When I go out I must feel beautiful-or at least look the part, eyes must be drifting across my body-admiring my every move.
My face must be full of makeup, I must be dressed to please men and make them and others happy.
I mustn't speak out of turn, I am to keep quiet if I have an opinion and to make everyone pleased and happy around me.
Because I'm the oldest daughter.
Those around me must not see the tears shed at night, the nights I spend staying up until I can see the sun coming up because my mind wouldn't shut off from worrying.
Worrying about every small thing done or said, the looks given or words whispered nearby.
Being the oldest daughter is meant to be perfection-not a broken mess who doesn't understand herself.
I must shake peoples hands while being introduced proudly as somebody I am not.
I walk with a mask on, walls built up so high nobody has passed through them.
The times I so badly want to break down, the nights I just want to sit on the floor and be hugged by somebody who loves and cares about me.
One couldn't count the times I forced a smile, when I wanted to cry but had to pretend I was perfectly fine.
Because I'm the oldest duaghter, right?
The people who meet me don't see or hear what's behind the closed and locked bathroom door. They cannot see me sitting on the bathroom floor breaking apart-so quietly nobody could hear.
Not that somebody would care if they did hear-why would they when I'm the oldest daughter.
I must be the fun older sister, I must put others needs before my own, ignoring my anxious thoughts and continuing through the day forcing every thought away until night.
Because I'm just the oldest daughter...Right?
Copyright © Schleich Tales | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Schleich Tales Poem
The world is full of many different people, nobody is the same and everybody is different and far from perfect.
Yet, we still seek a sort of perfection, we still look for certain things from people and have high expectations, whether thats for ourselves or other people.
Some people are louder, while others are more quiet.
As a quiet person, the world can feel like a lot.
Everyone expects things, words to be said or things done.
They have high standards, and when those aren't met they grow upset.
It can be as simple as a hello that wasn't said, or words you struggled to say.
Actions can be hard to, you can want so deeply to do something, but you feel awkward and overthink it.
Often times you regret these small things, since being quiet seems to bother people so much.
Sometimes you feel transparent, like everyone can see right into your ever thought, while other times people don't see any of you and you just go on as a mystery to them.
People startto whisper and point, they act like you have nothing good to say just because you keep your mouth shut and head down.
The truth is you have a lot to say, there is a lot more to you then people realize.
But nobody wanted to try, nobody wanted to take the first step and but the effort in.
At the end of each day your realize you spent it alone, that nobody really knew the real you because nobody tried to.
To everyone you were just this quiet person, but really you're just waiting for the right people to try.
Sometimes people got offended by the quiet, taking it like an insult or something they just didn't like.
Comments can be said, like being called "mute" and "just talk to them, it's not very hard."
People didn't understand the quietness, they didn't understand the every thought you had about every moment in life, or how you struggled to do what came naturally and easy to them.
These small things haunt you, becomes it makes you feel different and alone.
The quietness can become your sheild from what hurts most, but it can soon become you and hide the person beneath it.
And even if people on't want to try and find what it hid, find the person under it that laughed and has feelings, that loves things the way they do.
Then that's their loss, because the right people will.
And that's why there is more to a quiet person.
Copyright © Schleich Tales | Year Posted 2026
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