The bougie-ness is my shepherd, I want to lack nothing.
It makes me lie down in plush, king size feather beds,
it leads me beside entertaining waters,
it never fully satiates or refreshes my soul.
It guides me along the wrong paths
for my own damn sake.
Even though I walk
through the nicest valleys,
I often want more,
for my bougie-ness is within me;
my junk food and my stuff,
they try to comfort me.
It prepares a table for brunch before me
in the presence of my luxuries.
It anoints my lips with designer coffees;
my cup is never quite full enough.
Surely bougie-ness will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will not dwell in anything but the finest establishments