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Fast Times at Molten Java
Scrunchies around ponytails are the highest point at this coffee shop
The girls at the corner table wrap their cold little hands around a mug of hot cocoa on this first cold evening of the year
Pride posters takeover the sitting room as they admire the study of physics and the eccentric daily looks of their classmates
They speak so wisely,
With each girl bringing her own charming yet cussing tongue
They take breaks from studying to go on to talk about feminism and the need to feel ******* beautiful in jeans that might be a little too small for them
The walls are lucidly turning a boyish pink as their resilient words riddle the coffee shop’s still atmosphere
These girls are the rebels of the quiet night,
Scented of incense and mango vapour, maybe with a hint of roll on rose perfume,
They are completely unbothered.
Unfazed to the sight of anything that can remotely ruin this good time
These girls are not one to be influenced by the filth of social media ads and rude stares as they walk amongst this uniformed society
They root for one another and cheer each other on as they play jokes and make little fools of themselves, all eyes are on them and they don’t even care.
Winged eyeliner and cherry chapstick,
The youth I know is alive and well...
for I am gratefully sitting next to them at this once quiet coffee shop
this is what makes us girls
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