I am the queen of ill fitting jeans
of infected piercings,
of thinking that blue is green,
of uneven eyeliner wings.

I am the princess of pleases
of hellos slipped through voice cracks
of drunken apologies
of forgetting to text back.

I am the countess of chaos
of a thunderdome of possible tragedy
of making too many plans
of avoiding gravity.

I am the duke of drunk texts
of fizzy lemonade drinks,
of lingering regret,
of caring too much about what you think.

I am the queen of ill fitting jeans,
of ruling my life with a clumsy grace,
of being a storm without tea,
and I'll reign with a smile on my ******* face.