Warmup

To be me,
Growing up,
Time’s were severe.
Times were tough.

It was rough.

We bathed with rags,
And water bottles once,
When we couldn’t afford water,
At the end of the month.

In college,
I worked four jobs,
Studied hard,
And beat all the odds.

I had nothing,
To fall back on.
It was sink or swim.
It was game on.

I was an RA,
So I would have somewhere to live,
But I didn’t mind,
Because it felt like a gift.

I’m smart,
I had scholarships.

So why am I,
Still using dollar store makeup?
I’m stuck in survival mode,
A fight-or-flight hangup.

I was never allowed,
Could never afford to slip up.
Life gave me nothing,
So I fucking bossed up.

I’m ready for my closeup.

I’ve got no need for touch ups.

Success,
Is something I know much of,
But it’s hard earned,
and built from so much wreckage.

I love science,
And I love medicine,
And it in turn,
Gave me such freedom.

Life is surgery,
And I scrub in.

I’ve made it.
I rose to the fucking challenge.
I’m tired of feigning modesty,
But I recognize my privilege.

I’m just saying that,
I’m proud of myself,
For having courage.

So,
I think,
I’ll buy the fancy makeup.

Fuck,
Throw in the lotion,
And perfume to the lineup.

I earned my right to be here,

And I’m still just in my warm up.