Pretty day, ugly people
I'm privy to the privvy of her private lives
and I would like to inform all you lovely glass youths and maidens
that if you want to see the real she,
rip her open
Memories and empty words will spill
Idiocy, and a voice two tones too shrill
The blood she bleeds is blue indeed
from lack of oxygen and overgorged need
Criticism is her -ism,
indecision her religion
and she falls at the feet
of the high priest of defeat:
Subjugate, don't correlate;
herself you might unseat!
Those with acid hands can only corrode what they touch.
Those with acid tongues, more so.
I am growing titanium skin to adjust to these whiplashes.