Real Amplified Women-Raw


A cure is often contrived to make money

They tell you otherwise

As if what they make doesn’t matter

You set down your pen while you write remembering why you do

Letting it all mix

Often you can’t make sense of your emotions on paper

When you do 

You wonder if they too will know

What a mess you are

Underneath the beautiful suit you wear to the office each day

Then you think about the girl who’s still sorting clothes

Dreaming, working, and inching towards the reality she sees’s only in her head

Still doubting if it is only contrived there

In her mind

If she can find happiness in the stillness

Can you find it in your cubicle?

Do you laugh at thoughts as she does

Knowing it can be better to admit

A paradox exists

Among the working class


The elite 

Who’s too legit to quit

Which will win

Walk out 


Fighting for the vision within

Who’s right in the choices they have made?

Give me an answer.

~Angela K. Crandall~



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