The Caf'

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    The Caf'

    The caf'

    Oh, the caf'

    It's like the barbershop

    Free to be me

    Free to express myself

    Let loose

    In the caf' there's no need to be serious

    No need to worry about nothin' 'cuz I'm in the caf'

     

    I'm not the editor of the newspaper

    (In the caf')

     

    Nor am I the smart girl

    (In the caf')

     

    Everyday is a new experience

    And I feel myself growing each day

    (In the caf')

     

    I'm learning responsibility

    (In the caf')

     

    I'm learning how to love myself

    (In the caf')

     

    The caf' is a humbling place

    The caf' has become my newfound sanctuary

    I just sit back and listen to what people gotta say

    Every now and again, I may even come back with a smart, little quip

    But I am beginning to understand that the more time I spend in the caf'

    The more I feel my world slipping away

     

    I just wanted to help out

    Prove a lil somethin' to the ones on top

    Prove to my peers that I am selfless and appreciative

     

    Instead I found a place where people dwell

    A place that to some may feel like home

    I've been wanting a place that I could call home for so long now

    A place that makes me feel comfortable

    A place no one knows

     

    I came in an outcast

    A stowaway

    An outcast I still am

     

    But with each passing day that is spent in the caf'

    I find that I am shedding away the little pieces of snake skin that seem to flake and tear

     

    I needed this place

    For you and for me

    It was never about hours

    Never about you

    I did this for me

    Now I can't seem to stop helping

    I never needed friends

    And I still don't

    But it almost feels like a family when I am in the caf'

     

     

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    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

    RettaJ’s Poems (71)

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