Back of the Line.

Hey!

You sitting over there,

With your pressed suit,

and crisp white tie…

Who are you?

You look at me!

You judge me!

Because of my old shoes,

And wrinkled grey pants,

My frayed tie,

My off white shirt,

You think you know me,

You judge me,

Fuck you!

And your crisp white tie!

And your shiny black shoes,

and your perfect hair…

Yeah I don’t have hair…

I have experience,

and children,

I have lived, loved, laughed, cried…

and then I died…poorly…

…and you judge me?

 

You want me,

I’ll be at the back of the line…

Fucking angels.

 

 

 

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