Livin' on poptarts and Ramen noodles
Ain't cuttin' it
I long for the days
Where eyebrow waxes and pedicures
Become a staple in my budget
Instead of throwing dollars
At clubs and "luxury food"
In Subway bags
I'll own franchises and written words
Speak eloquently in any setting
While still being me
Choking on syllables and thoughts
Is getting old at this age
My progression is recorded every minute
Downward slopes slide across a broken pride
And once I make my umpteenth fall,
I look at past bruises
And connect the dots
Leading to my blistered feet
Drain the ignorance
And let the patience heal
Remembering
That tomorrow brings another chance
For a full circle change.
(Shoutie to my girl Ebony who told me to write another poem to rest my tired soul)
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