Doesn't Believe In AngelsMature

Tinsel princess, shimmering like a diamanté watch,
Eyes gleaming with Disney sentiment and half-chugged vodka;
A vacuous bargain. Dressed to the nines, and the twelves,
And the fours in the morning; lost in an enchanted slumber
With seagulls biting at her ears, drawing festered blood.
Hairspray and vomit, she is holding herself together,
A nest out of broken combs,
Drowning in piss.

The End

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