How?

How do you measure a mess?

That for ten years you kept suppressed

At each bump an attempt to digress

Hoping each path leads to success

They used to tell me to trust the process

Fuck the process I need to progress

I’m not that little girl in the polka dot dress

I’m that bitch whose life she will reposes

Covered in thorns, this strength I posses

I’m done dwindling I profess

Like a beast, I’ll win on my life I attest

 

 

 

 

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