Long thin limbs…like twigs…emaciated and scrawny
Jutting out arrogantly….from a gangly frame
She enjoys the drama of thriving on self-destruct
Victim mentality rules her life…blame, blame, blame
Reliving old hurts over and over, adding new ones to the pile
Bending the poor ears of all those willing to listen to….
the wailing and the shrieking…the self-pity…the woe is me!
Copious glasses of cheap, sour wine suck the youth
right out of her face and the calcium from her bones
Cigarettes etch deep furrows on her blotchy skin
Men are strangely mesmerised by the fragile brokeness
of her…the endless theatrics and they forgive the harsh,
abrasive laugh that leaps from the depths of her throat
from time to time…bitter…ironic!
Swallowing pain killers like lollies…barely ever partaking
in a morsel of food….happy to starve her body and soul
A stuck record bemoaning her fate over and over
Refusing to acknowledge that others have problems too
More wailing…more shrieking, hot salty tears and self
imposed misery….
Woe is she!!

3 Responsesso far.

  1. Dean English Dean English says:

    cormlari! If artificial intelligence is this poor sounding we are not at risk!! jason, what do we have here❓

  2. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:

    Hi Sonya,
    in your message you imply that you started reading poetry 8 years ago – a long time. Who do you read?

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