The Vamp.

She rests her hand upon her hip,
Her nails are on point,
The colour so vampish, she knows it’ll put
The bitch at work’s nose out of joint.
She smacks her lips together so
Her lipstick is evenly spread,
‘You need to jazz yourself up a bit,’
That’s what her mother said.
The bitch at work called her frumpy,
Was what she wore that bad?
And who is she to judge anyway?
She’s into stupid fads
And she always manages to make them look
So vulgar and so cheap,
I’ll show her, she thought, I’ll look so damn good
That she’ll want to weep.
She smoothes down her red skirt
And presses her lips once more,
Then nods at her reflection in the mirror before
She struts on out the door.

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