Listen here sweetheart, you might want to wipe off the excessive lipstick with the back of your hand while tugging your ridiculously short skirt down. Don't think for a millisecond that just because you have a pretty face -- something that doesn't look like the smashed up average and a pity story that some may cry to, you'll get everything you want. You're running around the whole world while thinking it runs around you. You can't just play your cards like that, pretending to be a girl who drinks moonlight tequilas when in reality you're nothing less than a pretentious child, aspiring for a new identity. Don't tell me you're the heart breaker when in reality your hearts been shattering too soon and most probably emptied down the drain. You might have a pretty face but I know better, I know your tendency to break everything you touch -- the child in the candy shop -- much too greedy for her own good. In the words of the boy whose lips are made out of fine china, 'she's poison', he was shattered by you some time ago and honestly I've been staying up late trying to nurse him back. You stand at the side of the street lights, gazing up at the fluorescent lights from below as your choke on your cigarette. The smoky breath so many desire despite the reused lips, the kind that simply won't keep to themselves. You keep forgetting that the lack of clothing isn't going to be able to shield your lack of humanity from the water splashed by the cars zipping by you. The ones who knows better than to stay.