ribbons in my hair,
nails painted red.
I think they'd all be happier
if one of us was dead.
I miss the satin,
the silk, and the lace.
daddy doesn't love me,
he says I'm a disgrace.
I sit on the lawn
under the sprinkler — oh, hi!
the magazine, awfully interesting.
awfully painful as I say goodbye.
-
Author:
๐ฑ๐ช๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฑ (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2025 00:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Playboy magazine?
no.
Sorry bad joke
Dark thoughts in this poem of feeling unwanted. A sad poem with a desperate ending. Nicely written with high emotional effect
thank you
You are most welcome
Excellent! That moment under the sprinkler stopped me. The casual โoh, hi!โ against the weight of goodbye...itโs dissonant, chilling, and powerful. Strong work, my friend. ๐น๐ค๐๐ฏ๏ธ๐ฆโโฌ
thank you!
You are most welcome!
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