Dressing Up Exotic

Dressing Up Exotic

Awkwardly striking a pose in front of the mirror,
My stretch marks pave the way
To my drug induced suicide.
The record skips through “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”
While I dress to impress
In oversized sweatpants and a ribbed tank-top
That does nothing to conceal my sharp nipples
Due to my snow blowing air conditioner.

I tie my golden red lollies up high
On the top of my head and grow 4 inches.
As my lopsided nose slices my face into jigsaw pieces,
I scrape the dried mucous spots
Off my lens and steady them on the jagged bridge
Of my flared nostrils.

Then I cry.
I weep silently,
Catching the salt water in my deep pores.
The dirt under my cracked nails
Mixes with the tears
While I scratch them off my face.

I’m not a pretty girl.
My beauty surpasses all that is normal
And I become nothing short of exotic.
Unfortunately,
The only one who sees that
Is the sad, pathetic bitch in the mirror
With cold tits and a snotty whine.