thirteen wishes, tinfoil and gold
my parents said you're not too old
thirteen wishes, a sense of adventure
nothing on tv, where do i venture
rotten flesh and a scurry ledge
it all ends the same, i'm on the edge
the only route
to slither you out
blood in my diaper
some on your hands
rinsing grime
pulling back strands
no more plastic, hands too dry
to pick up hobbies outside of work
no more makeup, not enough rouge
to bring me back my porcelain smirk
they will say i gave my life, though
i lost it all to a genie and now
mother won't call, not even to chat
even if she did,
i should known better than that