When you pout like that you look like a malformed Hapsburg princess.
Lower jaw stuck out to catch the drivel spewing forth from that moist slit.
Your father gets off each night imagining you bent over his knee. Beating you both to a pulp.
No matter how high the heels, you're still stepping in shit.
A hot brand will still burn.
Little princes have bowed legs and tricorner hats.
No comments:
Post a Comment