Bad News

A horn from my eyebrow,
A stick in my tongue,
Seventeen spikes in my ears,
My nose adorned with a stud.
I'm bad news.

I lock eyes for hours
Waiting for the other to cower.
I aim to intimidate,
And then smile and wink.
I'm bad news.

When I talk I enunciate with my lips,
I grab attention by swinging my hips,
I walk like minds are my runway;
Two steps ahead, they just can't look away.
I'm bad news.

Deep inside I scream for love,
I beg for kisses and hugs.
But all that I show is me on my thrown;
I am a queen, I can survive alone.
I abuse who I use.
I'm bad news.