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Turning forty
Being a woman
No one prepares you
For the day when
You will wake up
Trudge through the chaos
Do your nighttime routine
Wash your face
Only to look in the mirror
And realize you’ve
Washed years of your youth
Down the drain
Year, months, weeks
Days, hours, minutes
Simply vanished
On momentary vices
Fixes that never fixed
Anything they were worth
The real deal
Quite the wholesale stock
At clearance prices
Equals out to a lot of clutter
For someone who has
No clue how to
Iron the wrinkles out.