Hopes Are High, Head Is In The Clouds
I look in the mirror
and all I see
is tired eyes
and plump thighs
Make up covers tears
from hours earlier
Greasy hair, and stray whites
stand out
My hopes are high,
but the Debbie Downer
pulls me down to a frown.
The sun shines bright on
a winter day,
but I feel like I have nothing
else to say.
Just a void to fill the silence
in the room, the car, on the phone.
My spark is gone, but I light it around others.
I want better days to come, but this fog won’t lift
from my gloomy thoughts.
Fired from a useless job, panic attacks,
numbing my mind
with wine and brown liquor.
I’m a bland woman.
Better days are coming, I’ve been told.
My 8 Ball says most likely.
My love life, on the back burner.
Men only see me as a piece of meat.
I know I’m worth more than that,
I’m a priceless classy woman
who has a huge heart and
would love to be loved.
My spark is gone, but not my stubborness.
I need something, to pull me out of this funk.
Before I turn into a punk.
(2014)
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