She had a smile,
Etched on her face,
While I look like I ran a mile,
And she's dressed in lace.
She has a nice voice,
While mine is fucked up,
The others would rejoice,
If my voice were to letup.
She's pretty,
And stupid,
I'm witty,
And closed lid.
The boys prefer her,
Because she's optimistic,
My life is a blur,
Since I'm pessimistic.
I'm monotone,
She's "fancy",
My face is stone,
Her life is prancy.
Everybody wants to be her,
Just stab the bitch,
Boys she doesn't always lure,
She tells the teacher like a snitch.
While the bitch should be her,
It's considered to be me,
I don't wear fox fur,
Or make fun of people that can't see.
They think she's amazing,
That she's a fucking goddess,
She may have some bling,
But she's in no way modest.
I'm sick of this slut,
Strutting her stuff,
Feed her to a mut,
Tell another bluff.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughtful Rhymes
PoetryThis is a book of poems made from my imagination and passions. I hope some of you can enjoy the passions and ideas that have birthed themselves onto paper and were transcribed here. Enjoy! Bye Bye! Highest ranking: 964 #27 on #pray #35 on #think
