September 5, 2010
By Anonymous

When I was little
I used to dream about
Becoming a princess
Everyone knew my name
Everyone wanted to be my friend
Life was the best
Now I don’t dream anymore
My brain’s a wet washcloth
Collecting mold in a corner
But I am
A princess
Sort of
Everyone knows my name
Everyone wants to be my friend
Because I’ve got what they need
In a plastic bag
In a syringe
They approach me, ask me what I’ve got
They buy my love
Yeah so some of them get sick
Or die
And so what if my brain
That’s collecting mold in a corner
Is slowly dying
I’m a princess
My little girl self would be proud
Wouldn’t she?

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