
I am not perfect. I am also not a good poet. Review and read, and all that good shite. Tell me you loved it. Tell me it made you impotent.
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Words: 148 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 03-23-04 - id: 1559021
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Stupid poem I wrote in a fit of depression. *sighs*
The perfect girl
should have a thin waist
the perfect girl
is sinew
angular
hard
she should have breasts small and high
resting above a cage of ribs.
Play a tune on her xylophone ribs;
you and she make beautiful music together.
The perfect girl
does not have
soft pillow breasts you could get lost in.
Does not have shapeless curves,
does not have a thin waist,
or xylophone ribs.
She does not have
Soft arms,
or curves instead of lines.
Her legs do not meet in an imperfect "Y".
Soft is weakness,
soft is curves,
indulgence,
selfishness.
Perfect girls are hard and angular,
with little cone breasts,
tiny little waists,
xylophone ribs,
pit of hunger deep in her concave chest.
I am not perfect.
I am soft.
Weak.
Selfish.
I am damaged goods.
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