By Ty Weinert

 

I lost my shoe 

Dead battery in my phone 

Bleached bangs a mess 

Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone 

 

My dress is torn 

I still smell his cologne 

Feel him under my nails 

Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone 

 

Bugs squirm across my skin 

Treating my body like their throne 

Eggs laid in the invisible places 

Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone 

 

I hear my parents shouting 

“Is it her? Is it Joan?” 

I’ve never been so embarrassed 

“Why did you let her walk home alone?” 

 

He was sweet when he offered a ride 

In his car covered in chrome 

I’m sorry 

I’m so fucking sorry 

 

Mum and Dad stand over me 

Laying in a field two blocks from home 

I’m sticky from the blood 

Please don’t let me die alone 

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