I put on a Facade like it's makeup .
That mirror image haunts me.
I'm selling cosmetics for living , and it daunts me.
I want to be an author. I don't want to be a corporate slave.
I don't want to tell women what to paint their faces with all day.
I want to paint a picture using my words, and go the extra mile.
Everyday I greet those bastard customers with a smile.
I wear that smile like they're stilletos , because in the end I'm still fumbling about.
They say you can polish a turd all you want, but no matter what it's still crap, no doubt.
In this case it's Sequin crap. Some girls would kill for a job like mine .
I still feel like it's not cloud nine .
I want to go to school and do some learning.
But I'm behind that counter at work yearning.
My boyfriend says: " What about debt and loans? ".
Nonetheless I can feel it deep inside my bones.
I want this more than anything . I don't want to cease this opportunity . I want my heart and mind finally combined in unity.