She's a highway model,
Trading in the slow life,
For the void filling bottle.
Bringing home the pistol,
Bang Bang.
She's Trailer Park trash,
Living nights on her stash.
Booking hotels and motels,
And getting lovingly bashed,
By men who define,
Their love in violence.
Her black and blue eyes,
Are sweet purple violets.
To them she's a punching bag,
Wasted young tragic hag.
Trailer Park trash,
Living low,
Bloodstained basin.
Eyes black from shadow,
Mascara and dark lows,
Hands white and pasty,
Lips red and vapid.
Pouting and smoking,
Cigarette vogueing.
Queen of disaster,
Queen of the lowly.
Trailer park diva,
Train wreck wife, trophy.
Livin' low,
In the depravity,
Of her reputation.
Sunk down, broken up,
Drowning deep, elimination.
Train wreck,
Yeah life's a disaster.
Signal for help,
Sadly there's no answer.
You can't help me no more.
No answer.
Bring her down because she's high,
On the life of counting cards.
And playing the damsel in distress,
Her castle confined to bars,
Will fall when she wakes up,
From the train wreck of her life.
Train wreck,
Smoking red with anger,
Signals for help,
Yeah life's a disaster.
Signal for help,
Sadly there's no answer.
You can't help me no more.
No answer.
She's a dragon breathing liar.
Stepped on the corkscrew,
And bang went her tyre.
Crash and burn,
The fire consumed her,
And she fled off,
With the Cadillac for hire.
Trading in the slow life.
Signal for help,
Sadly there's no answer.
Life's a disaster,
Drowning deep,
Elimination,
YOU ARE READING
Stoneheart
PoetryA collection of poems about my coming of age, family and identity struggles and my battle with anxiety and depression as a youth.
