Elma

I should just write on my face
EATS WHEN SAD-
The Sharpie would probably
Stick in my cheeks 

I’m sick of the bubblegum girls
And their Ring-Pop tits
My tits are a backpack
In reverse-mode 

My armpits
Have not made me friends
Well, it depends
Not on the subway, but
They’ve kept panzerottis
And take-out manicottis
Warm for a friend.

It takes just about all of me to pretend-
Because everything tastes bitter
But I eat it in the end.

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