by Tiffany Layne

I’m not anything I thought I would be,
I don’t drive a Corvette or have a law degree.
I don’t spend my days lounging by water’s edge,
My house lacks crown molding and brushed nickel finishes.

I haven’t been all the places I thought I would go,
I haven’t seen Paris or London or New York when it snows.
I don’t have frequent flyer miles or points to save up,
And when I get gas, I can barely afford to fill up.

My clothes aren’t Gucci, my purse isn’t Coach,
My car’s barely running and the bank says I’m broke,
But I guess I’m wondering if any of that even matters?
Is failure defined when dreams are shattered?

Maybe sometimes life grows out of the rubble,
And things are better once you’ve busted that bubble,
But who am I kidding, I still wonder if I could have been
Everything I dreamed of way back then…

Was my destiny to be a mother instead,
And never realize any of the dreams in my head,
Or are they still yet to come, and I just took the longer road,
It’s been twenty years, and still, I really don’t know…




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