Heels, Candy, Sparkles, and Rapper Quotes

You are the sparkliest of the dumb
You are radiant like a chipped diamond
You stand out among the crowd in that
You don’t even try to be different from it

Good for you!

You look like every other person
You talk like every other girl
You wear pink, you breathe pink
You’ve won love, you’ve lost it

You think you have conquered hardships,
but Your hardships are not above anyone else’s
You’ve been stabbed in the back,
but You don’t hesitate to turn around and say hateful words

You can quote the latest rapper,
You have Taylor Swift lyrics on your blog
everyone knows what brands You love
and You can be seen sporting the highest heels at the club

Where some people hang a poster of a forest, a countryside
You post cupcakes; candy and woman’s work is your landscape
You would rather look at a portrait of Yourself than
any dead white guy – a pop-star over Shakespeare

You can quote quotes, but I guess so can a parrot
You can wear the clothes that model had on in Vogue
but I guess even a toddler can play dress-up
it doesn’t really change who you are on the inside, does it?

and it doesn’t matter, since Your friends will always be there
to support You, or stab Your back – sometimes that’s one in the same
and when your claim to fame is strictly insane in that You’re loved
because of how bitchy You’ve been
and not because of the things You’ve seen
and I can’t imagine having even one dream
remotely the same as created in Your monstrous being

lets pump out the drones and breed the clones
and then you can count the number of shoes that You own
and let’s look at the magazines You have stacked
and the celebrities that you’ve seemed to have racked
up to idolize while you’re infantilized
by your friends and loved ones

I can’t wait for the day
when that all disappears when they all go away
because, remarkably enough, there are a million of You
and You’re all interchangeable in a moment or two

Your fame will blow away and it’s quite a shame
that Your beauty will fade and children will take your place
as You breed and spawn while sitting and yawning
babies all over the place and a couple nannies to
instil in them the value of un-love and Hepburn’s grace

while You’re getting fat and old
and the husband count is one untold
You’ll still be happy surrounded by your things
and of course, the dollar amount of Your gathered rings

You’ll see me at the local coffee shop,
but you won’t recognize me
I won’t be there with candy, or glitter, or brand name heels,
and God forbid I should have little ones
bickering over meals

You won’t recognize the happiness I have
because it doesn’t come in a box
or a bag – it’s not attached to a price tag
it’s a not a mink fur or a coat made from fox

it’s not made of candy or glitter or rapper quotes,
it’s not made from the length of my leg in four inch heels
it can’t be bought, and it’s definitely not
found in a bargain bin with dressed up deals

in fact, it comes and it goes
it’s not found or defined by the amount of “hoes”
or “bitties” I’m friends with – in fact use those words with me
and I’ll give you another side de moi to see

while you degrade yourself, and don’t even know it
I’m sitting here, becoming a poet,
and getting as much difference from You and Your hoes as I can
…to think I could ever call someone like you a friend…

Enjoy the glitter, the glamour, the booze,
enjoy “life” as you call it and living with selfish attitudes
live only for Yourself every fucking hour
glory to You in the highest, peace on earth, and new Prada to every man
(waiter, please don’t forget her whiskey sour)