Note: I should probably explain that this was a class assignment where I needed to write a poem about something - I got really annoyed with the teacher because all the woman ever asked us to do was write poetry. Now I have no problem with poetry occasionally but it's really not my favorite thing to write or to work with.... so the assignment was to compare an Ice Pop with some kind of person - it could be anything we wanted - anything we could possibly imagine .... so I decided that I would compare an Ice Pop with a prostitute and see how she reacted.
Ice Pop
Her hands by the hem
of your fancy shirt
as she tries to caress your chest
for the right price given.
Her heart is cold
and long since destroyed.
Her clothes are dark
and tattered with goo.
Never has a soul managed
to thaw her out
before they finish with her highness.
She belongs in the darkness of the cold
cold world as she rules
over all the other little
goo covered gals.
Never do they bother
finding a new light,
and never are they as wanted
as much as their ruler.
Her story is sad,
and her ending
is inevitable when
she one day wanted to escape
her kingdome in the alleyways.
Her king fed up,
and her temper rising,
he won over the last
so now she is lying.
Cold, dead,
and stiff as a board
her highness lies
in the icebox where all the other
little ice pops go when their jobs are done.
