more.bad.poetry

where awkward private thoughts become public knowledge.


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Jukebox Girl

Push that quarter in, now –
Push it way down deep;
My songs are so ethereal,
But always come dirt cheap.

Someone touch my buttons, now,
Someone make me spin;
I’m that something fun to do
After six shots with your friends.

I’m the kind of thing you remember
Sometime later the next day,
Just some sort of hazy cloud
Of good times in your brain

I go quiet, I sit still,
Sadness in the dark until
Darkness brings them all back in –
Just a quarter, push it in.