Anthem of the Ordinary

You've done it you've made it

Look at you

you big shot, star-shooting golden girl

with your clean socks and your

shiny curls

You're on top of the shit-heap now

crawled your way to the tip of the dung

the crest of the crap

to peer over the stinking ledge

at the breathtakingly bleak view

of the future you'd had so much hope for.

Queen of the Cold-Hearted

and of the other pretty girls who

thought that up was the answer,

who turned down the snaggletoothed boys they loved

so that life wouldn't snaggle them

on its dull dreary planes

of flat boredom

and getting a rush out of a sale on dish soap.