…
You can cut me up,
carve me into any shape you desire.
Cut me down, even,
Wrap lights and tinsel around my dying limbs
until I cease to amuse.
Then throw me out,
to the street with the rest of them:
the girls you grew bored of.
As we sit on the curb,
fishnet tights and short skirts,
we're no taller than a Bonsai.
We could be beautiful and strong
with love and care,
But instead we've grown harsh and gnarled
trying to sell it instead.
…