Waffle house warriors

Waffle house warriors I know a group of girls Who write lists they’ll never stick to Make rules no one intends to follow because they are nothing if not wild They sit in waffle house booths, inject cancer into their lungs and drink straight caffine They fancy themselves damaged Secretly they hope for beautiful lives Lives after Texas, after the mess this place has made of them One, Calls them the waffle house warriors, the sisterhood of the traveling sluts She is a child, does not know how she will live without mommys rules Builds sandcastles out of ink, she is so young. Whens he was younger she found a boy in a mans body, this girl made a womans mistake. called a boy lover, secretly she named him salvation but his hands were soft and smooth she should have known he would not be her revolution Now she sits in waffle house with a book of poems she’ll never like The second has one booth, one spot where she can see everything, counts men like blackjack, she is alone somewhere in raising herself she has become someone else, someone hard and cold to anything too difficult her arms stuck in a constant state of pushing away she calls this survival, we know it as fear The third is a prized winning grand lotto of fucked up, she cries when it rains, when her cigarettes break in her pocket.. She walked a path, littered with broken promises and forgotten names, did shit she isn’t proud of but hey she did it, Hakuna matata man the past is the past. she is called broken, we know her as repaired They sit in a waffle house and dream of a forever they may never have Each one has a cuba, a castro to escape they board life boats, Rafts, old doors to float with their eyes set On the bright american Promise