She was never really the gorgeous one.
And she never really will be.
More like average.
A quick fuck,
To make a quick buck.
Oh, she's got glitter on her cheeks.
(but it's dirty, so so dirty)
Oh, she's got money up her sleeve.
(but it's dirty, so so dirty)
"How did this happen?"
She asked herself.
"How did I let it get this far?"
A runaway since fourteen years old,
She had to find a way out of the cold.
Her house was not a home.
She was always alone.
Now, at the age of seventeen,
She can't find a way out.
So she hits another line of cocaine.
Sits back and has another doped dream.
About the way she wished she could be.
Back before she was a dope feign.
Back before she was a whore.
She stands alone on
--Streetcorners--
With Cigarettes in hand.
(complements of her last fuck.)
She needs the money.
To pay for her next fix.
She's got cocaine in her brain.
And she puts herself to Shame.
A contest entry
- the torn skirt .&& my lover, the dirt. by CarCrashHumor.
450 points, ended December 30, 2006, 78 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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mmmhm
i really liked this. it flowed like a song, you should have a band. haha. really though, it was awesome.
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good attempt here although this sounds more like lyrics to a song rather than a poem but I applaude your attempt on a write that isn't the easiest to write about!!! great writting!!!
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well, it was kinda like a song in my head when I wrote it
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I loved the ending!! great narrative
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oop! applause.
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beautiful
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