“’Virtue is its own reward’ they say—
but ‘easy virtue’ is society’s reward for a slandered reputation.”
Golden curls unfurl
like fire and pain;
Mixed in-between the sheets
where teenagers learn to lust.
For all that I’ve learned:
Nothing compares to us.
In the war machine
that turns its wheels,
I’ve sorted through
my lost and found,
Till I found a worthy one.
A penny or a nickel to keep the crank going,
A shard or a blade to keep the heart pumping;
I’ve given enough, but here I release,
All the teenager that was left in me.