New faces.
They flock into here
as if migrating
towards a greater good.
Their calling is caffeine
to help them
to function.
To write their essays
and solve their math problems.
It's only a facade.
I can see right through
them all.
Each and every one of them
comes here to be accepted.
They want to think that they're 'cool'.
They want to think that they've succeeded
at being mature.
Drinking coffee
or sitting in a cafe for hours
doesn't make you an adult.
Stop trying to talk to people.
They look less than interested.
Your tube top doesn't accentuate
you're budding breasts.
Your jogging suit
doesn't make you look like you care.
Straighten your hair
and reapply your lipstick.
You didn't even get coffee, did you?
Your smoothie doesn't make you look
in the least bit
health conscious.
You're at a coffee shop.
Drink fucking coffee.
Don't look in my direction
as if I'm writing about you.
I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.
Damn.
Nevermind.
Maybe I'm a pawn myself.
Samantha Bursich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pawns-and-princesses/
