Ugly

I smell of cigaretttes
and last night's beer
not flowers and freshly washed hair
I've got perfect scars
not perfect skin
I keep fire and rage
in my womb
I drink my coffee black and strong
not your doubble latte moccachino
my poisonous tongue
could burn your skin
I'm not a virgin or a whore
not one of you skeleton bores
and all you anger junkies
you can come to me to score
I keep fire and rage
in my womb, my heart, I'm sold
this is pure. this is instant poetry.
this isn't even
spell checked.