Walking on the outskirts,
A smile crimped clean,
Holding on to the hope
Of leftover’s satiation.
Fifty feet away, zoom in
Until it’s almost like you’re
There, meeting success,
Your arm laden with their
Coats, falling into the idea
That you’re worth only
The change in the pockets.

Your hands grip around
Your midsection, thoughts
Cinching chains on your
Potential--uncurl them.
Watch the static in your
Hair loosen as you give
Yourself up to the arms
Of the only opinion that
Matters, the only love that
Can disprove the doubts
Of this insatiable world.