I gazed at her skin, fried and sprayed orange like the flames
That swallowed her soul, dragged her down to hell with ‘em…
Let her burn.
Staring at her sparkly stripper shoes, I wondered how she could sleep at night.
Well, she probably wasn’t alone.
Her hair, so harsh, bleached blonde beyond compare,
Frail, fraudulent, wannabe beauty
Like her shallow, gimmicky, stage get-up for the guys,
Giving the goods in mass quantity, like a buffet.
How cheap could she be?
I ogled her body, ***** that resembled balloons.
Psh. More like implants.
Honey, you’re not fooling anyone.
Her makeup, tacky and overdone.
It could never be plastered over her tattered self-worth.
I glared at her clothes, or lack thereof, itsy-bitsy and a poor excuse
For a cover-up, of any kind,
Physical or emotional.
Leave something to the imagination, would ya?
Some girls, how pathetic they are.
I’m better. I have morals.
Even if I don’t abide by them…
Even if I despise the creature I’ve transformed to…….
I gaped at the reflection, in the million-watt mirror lit aglow…
Who could this be? It never could be me.
Staring between false eyelashes, she was easy to see.
A party girl. A ***
No, no!
It’s not me…
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC