Rolling my eyes I wait for the automatic doors to open
Walk in to the hellish stench of dog food and bedding
Walking to the back seeing the dribbles of **** left by a curious canine

I roll my eyes when the broken lock gives me trouble
Maybe its a sign I should just leave now
Enter to the ***** that thinks she's top dog
Talking loud and acting like she's the ****,

Speaking to people who are idiots
The area is full of rich trust fund babies
Who are of course better than me, they think
Im a sad cashier
Does this thing even work? As they slide their worn card
I just roll my eyes

Getting in trouble for talking, and breathing, and stepping in the wrong direction
When I hear my name on the intercom
I just roll my eyes

Soon I'll be above you
Smirking as you greet me
And all you stagnant *******
Will roll their eyes when they see me

Today-
Reminded me of the beautiful china
In my grandmother's house
Strong, shiny, beautiful
Worth a lot
But even the best observer
Couldn't see the chips in the glassware
The many times the china had been dropped
No one could actually tell that it was broken
But I could tell.
Because even though sometimes I looked
Strong, shiny, and beautiful,
I was broken as well.

The promise
of emptiness
Is no reward for
the miles you
Walked
on daggers.

Poetry is so hard to find,
quite like love.
When you do, you must
write it like a check
you owe for allowing it
to express how the world
comes to mean anything at all:
to cover the debt you pay
for being, for flashing brightly
before the day begins
to crumble.

  ~mce