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.