I feel very cute.
With my hello kitty **** shorts,
And my big grey hoodie,
Hiding under my generic snuggie.
My hair smells like an expensive french wine,
And my black painted fingernails have been
Chipped by injustice and carelessness.
But it makes no difference.
I only know how to play the victim,
Or a sad, scared little girl.
This is a new role for me.
And I find it ironic,
That your method of comforting me,
When I am distraught and distressed,
Is to rest your head on my shoulder.
Do I follow your examples?
It doesn't feel raw enough.
So now what do I do?