There was once a girl who had the world in her corner, but it never seemed to belong to her.

She glanced at certainty. 

Such a fickle thing it was.

Certainly, she could find out what she wanted to do with the world.

Certainly, it would find out what it wanted to do with her. 

What had it done with her?

Thrown her into a mess of half-hearted scenes of hopeless dreams;

instant gleams of anxiousness and distress.

She was stressed.

She had the world in her corner, but it wasn't hers to hold.

To be told, she was fit to a mold that didn't allow her reign over her world any longer.

The girl had the world in her hands, but the world seemed to belong to a man.