From DeviantArt.
Smoke passes her lips, expelled by lungs

That still hold oxygen, enough to breathe

(At least at ninety-six percent oxidation…)

Which is perfect, for she’s not done

No longer one to hold her tongue

(I’m too old now to get a tongue ring.)

To those who have hurt her and made her cry

(Well, that wasn’t cool, man. Not at all.)

For all of those heartaches that cleverly tried

(Ha, sometimes, I am more clever.)

To lessen her shimmer, glimmer and shine

(I have naturally wavy hair, plus fart unicorns and glitter.)

Well then, please kindly fuck off

(And excuse me all over the place.)