Dear Rhea Smith, darling

you know you look like your mother.

we know you hate that cuz she fucked you over.
somehow he left and you got stuck with her.
that’s why you’re impossible to handle.
so you get out there and get a nice image,
and get a nice job
but you’re paying to look good just to still get nowhere in wealth.

you can’t buy that shit,
but you can let him buy you a drink.

he’s switching careers right now,
but the money is good
and he’s wanting to have the kids and the mortgage, don’t worry, i get it.
this might be your golden ticket.
you’re looking good, y’no
yr teeth are white
big blonde eyes, whitened smile,
but there’s a “howr u wndrng f thrs a grl n thside?” creepin up yr backbone
oooo yeah
and you play like you’re strange.
how long do expect him to hold out
of course you do,
you’re practically a grown lady,
27 rr wtvr

so he sees how you act with [your old lady]
and of course you get to straight hating the bitch,
never for any reason.
funny cuz
you meet a man
you try to remind yourself not to act like yourself today.

it’s like you fucking farted.
and girls don’t fart.

he might not even mind so much
but then you
blow it out of purportion.
constantly i’m sorries,
“blah blah blah, i’m” sorries.
sorry about your mom
sorry about the interaction.
yr not sorry for yr life already,
are you?

and no matter how long you push it
you somehow end up alone.
i gotta admit you have dated some pieces of shit though.

and as for looking like your mother (who i know you fake hate)
its not so much in the pieces but the bigger picture if you know what i mean.

your pal
ursa urn

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