Lipstick on a PigMature

Lipstick on a pig 

Is still a pig, you venomous weed in delusional 

Gardens of roses, thorns knotted around your 

Scrapyard heart; your lungs pump out slander,

Pander to your chess-piece people; melt them with

Your greasy, glossy grin, you wear too much of that 



Sometimes I want to use that pout as a punchbag, 'til your

Ivory teeth pierce my knuckles like prized diamonds; I'm 

Harvesting you like a second-hand heart when you have 

None; I'm stripping you down, all your gift-wrapped layers of 

Tissue and Versace, 'til you're as raw and naked as me. 


Humiliation won't look good on you, you can't pull it off as if 

It were the junkie-look,

With too much cheap eyeliner; you have so much grace to fall from,

I'll kick you to the dirt from your pedestal; you need to work on 

Your attitude, 'cause lipstick on a pig

Makes a hell of a mess. 

The End

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