Wanderlust

Have you ever considered the money we spend on mascara

The thoughts we spend on our outside

I don’t want them to see that pimple there

Or I hate my color hair

Doesn’t know what to say

The homes in her heart aren’t hers to claim

One word isn’t enough

One word shuts her up

Foreigners have to pay more 
At the thick metal door.

Inside we see a hippo

I rise and know that something new is here.
It smells of pine laughter and undefined. 
Hands pressed to frosty glass outside I peer. 
Its purity and peace makes me blind.