Grown Up Now

I've done all the work. I've tried to do everything right.
I graduated high school at 16, and college at 20. Here I am in grad school nearly begging for money.
I know the message is the focus, but I apologize for my beat. I'm not a poet--I'm just trying to stand on my own two feet.
I think in pictures--not in words--which this competition wants. Others are younger, smarter, more creative, and their poems are like taunts.
I moved out this year. I'm responsible to pay. Please give me a break, I'm just trying to make my way.
The laundry needs washed and the dishes need rinsed. Sometimes I get so tired, I literally need pinched.
Books are everywhere. I've come so far. My laptop keeps crashing--it only got two star.
I can't buy the bagel 'cause my rent is too high, but the food is really important--without it I would die.
Vacation is a dream, and a movie's out of the question considering my oil's too low and I need my medication.
They say I'm too stressed and I need to chill out, but what they don't realize is I can't even afford SHOUT.
I wear my Monday clothes on Tuesday and my Wednesday clothes on Sunday. As long as the people I encounter remain in their respective domains, they should never see me wear the same clothes twice and might even overlook the stains.
I budget for my six-dollar Amazon Prime. Thank God I'm a student, 'cause that status saves me dime.
I'm almost there. My goal's in sight. Just one more class to pay for before my loans see light.
This semester I'm not hitting the credit load for FAFSA. By some miracle my empty pockets must pay for just one last class-a.
This poem isn't pretty, I warned you at first. This isn't my forte, and I don't need to be told it's the worst.
But, please, just consider aside from what this must make you think, what your scholarship could accomplish despite my poetic stink.
I'd use it for tuition, not a penny elsewhere. I'd enter my last semester with the beginnings of some financial repair.
Please, just consider how amazing it would be if you could overlook this rough-hewn poem for somebody like me.
I've never won anything, and I'm not looking for an easy way out. I'm simply looking for a miracle since my options have run out.
Growing up isn't easy, but I've found there's just one thing worse. Thank goodness this poem is a wrap once I'm done with this verse.

This poem is about: 
Me

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