She walks through the ragweed, To get to school, She see's the boys who, Think they're cool, They like to tease her, They like to stare, Yet still they're scared, Of her swirly glare, Then she remembers, Something she saved, Hidden in the woods, An unmarked grave, She cuts them up, And buries them there, Then leaves an offering, Of her own hair, Everyday as she, Lifts her dress, She smiles because, She did what's best, Everyday as she pisses on the grave, She reminds them, "Naughty boys should behave"
Reason for writing:
None givenBirth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Jessamine Grulich.