REALIST BITCH?dy:DOSH
She walked in skin almost white from black as night, her eyes were blue where
they use to be brown, Her ghetto Barbie blond wig lace fronted her hair line as
her black roots were left to wither and die under the toxins. Her gold coated
vulture claws occasionally scratched the flakey scalp that now peeled under
the concealed head of someone else’s foreign hair, yet she keeps screaming
with conviction “I’m the realist bitch”.
Perched upon her 5 inch red bottom stilettos her 40 inch plastic posterior set
perky under a 24inch waist of hidden cuts and missing ribs. She brags on her
six pack, big backs, perky silicone and reconstituted fat. O, but she’s the realist
bitch. She dresses for the occasion in animal furs carrying her teacup puppy in
a chinchilla bag, craving the cameras of the paparazzi and then complaining as
if they are deviants that color her mad. Her pouty protruding Botoxxed duck
lips stay glossy as they spit lies of self delusion from beneath her comedy zone
that she now calls cheek bones that seems to have made themselves quite
friendly with her eye socket. She squints with her newly tightened slits of vision
and screeches in her fake poutiness “that’s right, I’m the realist bitch”.
Tattooed Neck twisting, hands on her hilariously disproportioned hips,
rhinoplasty barley able to sniff. She use to be a beautiful black girl, now she’s a
pale image of an anorexic Asian with white girl features, an uptown appetite
and 110th st. attitude. But she insists, “I’m the realist bitch”.
Exert in “theRANDOMS”HOUSEofPOETRY vl.4 imvu 3d room product.
She says she still loves her black skin all though the bleaching cream keeps
coming in, she no longer hangs with Shanika, Tamika or Tionna, there too
ethnic, that would ruin her persona Nothing more ….
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