She rushed down the stairs,
Phone in her hand,
Looking at the time while coming down,
Focusing to do so without tripping.
She turned the corner,
And entered a corridor leading to the way out.
While walking through,
She tried to fix her self before stepping out,
Running her fingers in her hair,
Wanting to de-flatten her bead-head,
Pulling down on her cardigan making sure its in place,
And as she came closer to the door,
Wrapping her scarf around her neck...
On the other side of the glass door they stood.
With perfect bodies,
The right amount of tan,
One with shoulder length hair,
While another with a Burberry head scarf,
She felt time freeze for a split second.
They eyed her with a look full of superiority,
Glanced away and opened the door,
They walked through while she stood to the side,
Working so hard at forming a smile,
But ended up making herself feel stupid,
As they walked by without even holding the door for her...
I can't be you,
I can't be perfect,
I can't look down on those who don't meet my standards.
I wasn't born with a spoon of gold,
I don't have an "al-" that signifies who I am,
And I was never taught to act as if I was queen of the world.
I am me,
And for as long as I live I will always be proud of me,
I will never quantify life by looks and money,
Its the simple things that count.