Why is the wind always at my face in this city?
It pushes me back, forces me to work to get where I go.
It's a success that I get anywhere at all.
When I was a kid, I loved it--
the wind blowing against my face,
my hair dancing around my head.
Now I wish the wind pushed me
to my destination.
I don't need its help to feel like a model.
No comments:
Post a Comment