In every purse I've got,
it's always the same tube of lip-gloss.
It's the Cherry lip-gloss that's colorless, shiny.
Doesn't matter to me,
if people want to call it
bold,
cheap,
lazy,
pretty,
free.
Hey, that's me.
An intimidating tube-full of confidence and gloss.
Chivalry died and made me the boss.
But I'm just another Baby doll.
Made in America.
Made of
bold, rosy cheeks,
Cheap glass eyes,
lazy pink fingertips
pretty bright hair,
and an unhappy pout on these little lips
because I'm free to say nothing at all.
Because if you really looked in that purse
that I carry around like 'the curse'
if you tried this lipstick on you,
you still wouldn't believe the damage I can do.
You wouldn't believe
I've worn a black dress.
And you couldn't love me
if you could see that I'm just a mess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You sound lovely and charming, never stop reading and writing, poetry is as lovely as a girl, honest, Uriah