A Woman

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My mother wakes up everyday,

And does her hair and makeup.

She blow dries the wet tendrils

and curls her lashes.

She covers her blemishes

And puts on lipstick.

She carefully picks out her outfits

And makes sure that her hair is in place;

And she tells me that these are things that women do everyday

Because they are supposed to.

But I wake up everyday,

And run my fingers through my curly hair.

I look at myself in the mirror

And shrug at the pimples on my skin.

I throw on the first pair of pants I see

And take a random shirt from my cluttered closet.

My hair is never in place,

My blemishes never covered.

Sometimes

I think it's better to just be,

Than to try and catch up with what the world thinks I'm supposed to be.

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