Misplaced Pride

I've sat on my thumbs for years
 Ruled the roost of toiling away
 My troubles and fears
 So willing to abide
 I was the image of ambition for my mother's misplaced pride.
 But I am merely a girl
 Who wrestled and raged
 And aged too fast for this world
 More naive than I'd like
 And more dangerous than I desired
 And though my hands are small
 I have beaten a few but in no way have I won them all
 I still dream thinking it'd be nice
 To unravel these strings that hold me upright
 For when pulled every which way by expectations I didn't make
 How can I keep to that path so narrow and strange
 So what difference does it make
 If I sleep with eyes open
 Eternally hoping to lie convinced I'm awake
 I know my voice is still just one inch tall
 But if I stand on my toes
 Will I reach anyone at all