How do they say, if you can’t say something nice… etc but I suppose that rule never really applies when you’re talking about me. Over the past few weeks I have been thinking, dreaming, and attempting to end my life but all I seem to hear is the same trash and never, I suppose angels singing. She’s Singing Now is me waiting for the fat lady to sing so I can finally leave this place… if only pretty girls would sing to me SIGH.
Not the little ones
Jailbait chicks
A perverted prick
My sin a trick
Wayward dick
Back in school
Making fun
* * *
Not the petite ones
So almost
But not quite
Light
Yet not right
I was weak
And small
* * *
Not the pretty ones
Those I love
Spell of witches
Bitches
I dug ditches
Saying no
They scream in dreams
* * *
Not the ugly ones
Quiet friends
Not bought
Sought
I never want
But a word
And a smile
* * *
Not the skinny ones
Media floozies
Diets
Laugh riot
Excited
Not good enough
They say
* * *
The fat lady though
She’s singing now
Shouting
Howling
Drowning
In sweet words
To me
And I still don’t love her
Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.
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