With eyes on fire she’s a facsimile version of all of these better things
With pert breasts and a magical A-Cup portrayal she feels many a thing whilst the other person ties their mind by her oblong side

Synonymous with herself – eager-eyed aside ultimately mixed-up bag of adolescent tricks
No more knowledge, just pain and roller derby games

A trigger-happy individual dives right the way in – deeper, deeper, digging and formed from spectacular kinds of kinship liquid

They told her to watch her weight and that the rest would inevitably take care of itself – a magnanimous industry filled with miserly people – persnickety and hard-sought wannabes
Off by a thousand degrees of degradation

Dilapidated and misshapen, their own bag of secondary sensation

Curtly girl thinking for the ten of we, when a decidedly oft than not garrulous intelligence lends itself toward utter mistake and mysterious mishap – meeting them upside-down and right by the agonised middle of a sinking ship

She’s been heavily, heavenly predisposed to this manky-handed thing of theirs
Called A Life Less Ordinary

Our bellicose beauty
She wears her father’s favourite make-up beneath her mother’s dripping-in-gold hair
These concrete feet moments in time are all of them ours

Can’t they simply see, we’ve been attempting to educate Rita …