Scattered newspapers and pretty words
make you a picture frame for ill-repute.
Drowning in glass crystals of bargain basement emotions
that more or less make her look like she's trying to
win an Oscar or two.
Smear silence like wet soil
on loose lips that spell "m-i-s-t-a-k-e"
on Scrabble boards that can't be erased.
It's only safe if you leave here.
Take your lottery tickets and scarlet letters
and give Barbie dolls a new lease on life.
With pretty little poison
that flows like H2O,
every little syllable you speak
is like death to me.
Silver trophy winner
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