There’s a woman that works next to me that isn’t what she seems.

She tries to fill the role of a middle aged lady with a son who does her job and goes home.

But you can’t hide what you really are…

The faded tattoos.  The weathered features.  The defiance at authority.

You were a party girl.

Obviously not now; probably not in the past 15 years.

But I know you were.

At one point you were dancing, topless, on a bar.  Coked out of your mind, Ready to blow or stab the first guy that walks past you.

You were a badass broad.

Now, time has stolen your youth, your sense of adventure and your freedom.

At least it hasn’t stolen your middle finger…