45: Kind poem from the soul (of a very exhausted 21 year old girl)

Im gonna be twenty one in a week, semester fly over me like a dream

another semester down, another closer to leaving this place, makes me wanna scream

memories of this fall term are clustered around granola and taking time for granted

pulling all nighters now that it’s coming to a close and I’m tired and cranky and slanted

I need a little holy water to wake me up and wash off the cigarette smoke and sweat from work and walking around the city

I gotta get home and drink more water and wake up and read all my shit and try to look pretty

This healthy snacks brand is quite the oxymoron since I’m really far from pulled together

I need to stop smoking and stop procrastinating and smile at work and call my mother

I need to hike like I did last year but that me seems like a million miles away

just a little version of myself cramped in the back of my head like a different actress in a different play

confronting a little granola bar is a little tricky and its getting under my skin

branding this thing keeps making me think about the brand of the person I live in

am I as free to interpretation as Kind?

could anyone project 54 me these days or am I to remain undefined?


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