Barbed Wire Girl

I suppose its
hidden in the way I move
most of the time
you can’t see the barbed wire girl
protruding from beneath
my porcelain skin.

The lacerations they leave behind
probably don’t ache for long,
lacking venom
they are more like paper cuts
to the unsuspecting ego.

What better muse than myself
with such armaments
the only thing I have to fear
is a lack of love
from the dull witted and diluted
campus drunkards
which is to say, nothing.