Come every morning you're up with the sun
with hundreds of questions before breakfasts done
like what is a rainbow and where is the dark?
what's that? and why's? can we go to the park?
the beach? the woods? as I sit here and dream
must we have cereal? I want ice cream!
You sit at the table, eyes wide, mine half shut
and chat to the cat about dinosaur stuff
how you like pterodactyls but school, not so much
you rummage through cereal in hope of a toy
one way to amuse such a curious boy
the cat swipes  the box, makes it fall to the floor
"there goes our breakfast!" as sweet laughter roars
you slurp at your juice as I sip at my tea
so it's ice cream for breakfast for you and for me.

Cigarettes and
red nail polish,
and one night stands,
that's what little girls are made of.

Bright blue pills and
soft pink lips,
and whiskey soaked nights
laced in regret,
that's what little girls are made of.

The sharp boys who whisper
behind street lamps in parks
know nothing of
what little girls are made of.

Broken hearts,
crushed dreams,
bitter souls, and
black coffee,
that's what little girls are made of.

Tear tracks and
bloodstains,
bruised knuckles and
fire.

That's what little girls are made of.