The Good Trap

Nonfiction

I go through phases

Of trying to be "good"

And good girls

Don't think about sex all the time

(Hard fail 😏)

Good girls

Don't contemplate murder

Over their morning coffee

(The fucker deserved it though)

They don't have

Shady secret profiles

( Hello again 😅)

When will I learn

That "good"

Is just a box

For hiding all the shit

That makes me

My own person

Instead of a carbon copy

Of other pretenders?

Still I try to squeeze into it

Dislocate a shoulder or two

Fill it half up

With the sinful red

Streaming from my mouth

All to still

Not quite fit