argh.
Mom thinks I'm pregnant. I... don't.
Well I threw up at school today for no apparent reason and mom thinks it's morning sickness. Argh. Dad's all annoyed.
In further news, I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower again.
And I wrote another random, wordy poem. I'm not really all that happy with this one. The rhythm is off, I think. It just doesn't flow. Argh. Well anyway, this is the result of much editing. I completely trashed a verse about our lovely valedictorian even f***ing a closet lesbian teacher of hers, and while I liked it, it just didn't work, it was too much... So I wrote a verse in its place and here's the finished result. I know it's wordy. And for my next trick, I shall remember that Brevity is the soul of wit! >.<
Here I take the stage again,
Valedictorian.
My hair is all primped and preened,
My lips shine with sickly sheen.
I look across the field to see
Those fools who would look up to me.
Those proud faces, proud by far
To look to me, their shining star.
They think that I’m so innocent:
“A Christian virgin: Heaven sent”
Hell with that, they don’t know,
They’d rather just enjoy the show.
From my vantage, I can see
All my lovers winking back to me:
Mr. Bassett taught me math,
Thought our love was a primrose path.
Mr. Warner liked it rough,
He never could get enough,
And when he did have his way
I’d still be bleeding night and day.
“Is that all?” You might jeer,
Two abortions in the last year.
They all know, but they never suspect,
They never bothered to dissect
The life of their little pearl,
Hair tucked up in perfect curls:
I dotted my I’s with little hearts
And they never found my secret arts.
So now I am your scholarly ace,
I cheated, but I’ve won the race,
So I stand before you, now, today,
To send you, smiling, on your way.
And you’ll hang my picture in the hall,
A face more perfect that a doll.
And at the party soon to follow,
I won’t show my soul is hollow.
I’ll play the good girl, I won’t drink,
I’ll look shocked at every wink
But soon I’ll find the richest lad
And take all there is to be had.
I’ll be sure to cry when he enters me
And I’ll be just as sweet as I can be.
I’ll let him think that I’m in love,
But such foolishness I’m far above.
To no one am I steady and true,
What’s good for me I’ll only do.
So I’ve become, and nothing more,
Nothing but a perfect whore.
Well I threw up at school today for no apparent reason and mom thinks it's morning sickness. Argh. Dad's all annoyed.
In further news, I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower again.
And I wrote another random, wordy poem. I'm not really all that happy with this one. The rhythm is off, I think. It just doesn't flow. Argh. Well anyway, this is the result of much editing. I completely trashed a verse about our lovely valedictorian even f***ing a closet lesbian teacher of hers, and while I liked it, it just didn't work, it was too much... So I wrote a verse in its place and here's the finished result. I know it's wordy. And for my next trick, I shall remember that Brevity is the soul of wit! >.<
Here I take the stage again,
Valedictorian.
My hair is all primped and preened,
My lips shine with sickly sheen.
I look across the field to see
Those fools who would look up to me.
Those proud faces, proud by far
To look to me, their shining star.
They think that I’m so innocent:
“A Christian virgin: Heaven sent”
Hell with that, they don’t know,
They’d rather just enjoy the show.
From my vantage, I can see
All my lovers winking back to me:
Mr. Bassett taught me math,
Thought our love was a primrose path.
Mr. Warner liked it rough,
He never could get enough,
And when he did have his way
I’d still be bleeding night and day.
“Is that all?” You might jeer,
Two abortions in the last year.
They all know, but they never suspect,
They never bothered to dissect
The life of their little pearl,
Hair tucked up in perfect curls:
I dotted my I’s with little hearts
And they never found my secret arts.
So now I am your scholarly ace,
I cheated, but I’ve won the race,
So I stand before you, now, today,
To send you, smiling, on your way.
And you’ll hang my picture in the hall,
A face more perfect that a doll.
And at the party soon to follow,
I won’t show my soul is hollow.
I’ll play the good girl, I won’t drink,
I’ll look shocked at every wink
But soon I’ll find the richest lad
And take all there is to be had.
I’ll be sure to cry when he enters me
And I’ll be just as sweet as I can be.
I’ll let him think that I’m in love,
But such foolishness I’m far above.
To no one am I steady and true,
What’s good for me I’ll only do.
So I’ve become, and nothing more,
Nothing but a perfect whore.