She stands there looking defiant,
hair grazing her chin and eyes blazing;
her posture screams "INDIGNANT!"
But her tone whips with censure.
She speaks as if I was the one--
the one who did something wrong.
Fuck, I wasn't the one--
the one who caught the tiger by the tail.
For her, though, everything's a conspiracy.
We're out to get her,
Out to ruin her.
God forbid anyone ever see the real her!
She loves all those little cat fights,
"You stole my boyfriend!"
"You broke my heart!"
She loves melodrama...
She's a whore for dramatics;
can't help but delve right in.
Opens her mouth wide and swallows it down
with a sweet smile, she spits it back up.
What a whore! Makes you wonder--
where she got the practice?
Did she hone her skills on the corner,
breaking hearts...a dozen a day?
Or did she crawl into some cheap bed,
and pretend to be the jealous wife,
spying on the cheating husband
and backstabbing friend?
Perhaps she cut her wicked teeth
on the morals and passions of innocence.
Maybe she was so thorough in her work,
that there was no innocence left within her.
She's seems happy enough,
causing trouble only to proclaim it.
Wonder what she's doing now?
Lacking someone on whom she can blame it.