Mark R Slaughter (1957 / Norwich)

What do you think this poem is about?

Ugly

Ugly said it all.
I played with light,
Smeared the glass,
Blurred my vision –
Still an arse, my face.

I drank a little more,
Talked it up – tanked up!
Still the hideous whore
Was howling in disdain,

For Ugly stared again.

F**ked up, I gave up -
Took a hefty pill.

Ugly died an ill.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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Mark R Slaughter
Submitted: Thursday, March 18, 2010
Edited: Friday, March 19, 2010


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