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Poetry and whatnot

5 years ago. February 16, 2020 at 5:01 PM

She grew up in every wrong place

She's dirty, her makeup is not grace

She's a switchblade, knife razor sharp

Not gentle strings, no strumming harp

Her wit and sarcasm, it all drips

Hers are not pink and pouty lips

She's no flower or demure petal

But rather made of steel and metal

No sugar coat, just straight bottom line

She has surpassed life number nine

Heavy penetrating, sometimes reflective 

Intricate, profound, complex, so effective

There is no bottom to her stone well

She's a free fall, straight down to hell

MLG


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