Sonnet II

I don’t mean to sound elitist, that’s not my intention at all,

But honey, you’re a motherfucking moron simply put, with the way

Over confident arrogance clings to you, one of the many pitfalls

Of too many bleach fumes; but remember – beauty will one day fade.

Your sugary-sweet tone only serves to repulse me, your habit

Of draping yourself over anything of the male specimen disgusting,

And your constant need for attention, inability to be tight lipped

...Everything’s wrong with you. And popularity, it’s fleeting.

I pity that hollow look behind your eyes, the damnation you inflict

Upon your soul. Physically, you’re perfect, but you’ll never amount

To anything more than a toy, a plaything, a slut, a whore - a fuck buddy at best.

Ten years from now, you’ll be alone, moaning about your psyche tricked

Into believing that you needed to be identical to what was found

In your magazines, that brain size was secondary to the size of your breasts.