delinquint protagonists

—There is what looks like a fleck of starlight—
on the bottom of her lip Cubic zirconia
—Patron Saint of broke neon punks—
She had bills burning to squander
—and a lip to pierce in this downfallen—
yesterday town, this summertime relic
—Accomplice to pain, she self medicated—
with the breath of Silent Sam; One-two-three
—and a hole in her skin Redemption renewed—
Vodka cleaning all wounds Still, being roughly naive
—she’ll go home tonight and hide in her room Advil—
and crackers casting the palliative care of
—a missing mother—

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