Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2011
You have always thought
since you were a little girl
That all you had to do
was do a pretty twirl,
and the world would fall
into your pretty lap
with your fancy silk cravat,
and your simpering sighs.

You. Make. Me. Sick.

Twirl little girl,
If you may,
To twirl and twirl another day
in your fancy house with your sparkling jewels,
they're what you call 'bargaining tools'.

Of pearl or diamond
they're not made
lasting not in the rain,
Melting sugar, simpering dew,
puddle at my feet,
adieu, adieu.
Miss Masque
Written by
Miss Masque
824
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems