Recycling Girl was a bit of an odd child,
She was all stitched together and just a bit wild,
For it's easier to control an explosion or stone
Than a child who's parts aren't originally their own.
Her right arm was a hook taken off of a crane,
Her feet were wheels from the bottom of a train,
Sticks and stones, they were her bones that once broken never mended again.
Flesh she had too in various parts,
Taken from bodies, corpses and shopping carts.
Now how was it that this unusual girl died?
She wasn't murdered, nor commit suicide,
But simply her heart, a half eaten peach
Became too rotten to continue to beat.
And so Recycling Girl was dead and gone,
Or so it seemed until later on...
YOU ARE READING
Agenda Poems
PoetrySome little rhyming stories about the misfortunes of my characters that I originally wrote in my agenda...