“You can do it,” she said,
“It can’t be that hard.”
It was hard.
It couldn’t be done.
She didn’t believe that.
She believed in me.

“Just get to it,” she said,
“You can do it.”
It wasn’t that simple.
I couldn’t do it.
She didn’t understand.
She didn’t see through my piss-stained glasses.
She saw a me I didn’t see.
She believed in me.

“It’s gonna happen,” she smiled,
“You can make it so.
“I believe in you,” she said.
“Don’t,” I replied,
“There’s nuance to this,
an explanation for its impossibility.
I cannot make it so.
I cannot make a broke car go.
Understand: I’m saying ‘No.'”

She didn’t believe me.
She believed in me
Until
I finally convinced her otherwise.