Skirts off in parking lots,
screwing in backdoor alley ways,
you writhe in passionate glory
with your fluorescent anti-glow.

This is all for nothing
and everything seems
beauteous to you,
but you're mummy's little slut
and the whore you once became is
now the person you long to reclaim.

Pressing against broken glass
you never feel the cut
(the sting of it)
blood drips into your eyes,
but you never notice.

You're numb -
you come without knowing;
no little boy can make
you whimper like the first;
And they'll never break you,
although they wouldn't know it.

You lead them on
to break their hearts
only for revenge
and you're taking it out
on innocent bodies -
smashing them against the wall
like they're him, but he'll
never know the effect
he's had on you...

He's packed his bags,
hitch hiked his way to hollywood,
(left without looking back)
smeared lipstick i love yous
across your bathroom mirror.

He fucked you on the floor,
left you there, told you
it's the only place you belong,
and now you've grown accustomed to it.

You've never pretended
to be anything more and
noone's tried to lift you up...
You're easily trampled
and you wouldn't have it
any other way.

This gutter girl look
has become your trademark -
if Gucci had a name for you
they'd paint it in faux graffiti
across the next designer handbag,
sell it in parisian store windows
for a fortune.

You are forgotten in the corner,
the girl we all know
and everyone has their
own use for you...

09/19/2003

Posted on 09/19/2003
Copyright © 2025 Karen Michelle