Dumb Blonde Poem

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Christina Opett 9/28/09 Poem-“Dumb Blonde”- Final Draft Her bright pink pumps you can see for a mile. With her pearly whites, she wears nothing but a smile. It’s probably because she doesn’t have a clue. She’s still trying to figure out two plus two. Her blonde hair held so high with hairspray, And the thousands of questions that come every day. She must not think before she speaks, Obviously her brain cells must are extremely weak. “Like,” pours out of her mouth every other word, And her “That’s hot!” motto is just absurd. When you talk to her you receive a blank stare. It’s because she spends that time twirling her hair. She wastes away writing a blog, And when she’s not doing that, she carries around her annoying little dog. She’s in her convertible, knowing Daddy’s rich, When she should be on a broom, that blonde witch. Her fake smiles and compliments you can see right through. She would never be caught dead in green, red, or blue. How much of an airhead could someone be? Thinks tuna is chicken, but it’s really chicken of the sea. She struts her tiny waist, designer clothing, and big bust, But everyone knows that her brain is made of dust. She bakes in the sun to get that bronzy glow, But once you get past that, you see it’s all for show. Where is the happiness in this superficial life? Her head’s so full of nonsense you could pop it with a knife. All the boys seem to love her for her beauty and her charm, But to them she’s just a decoration for them to hang upon their arm. She will grow up and be nothing. This will certainly not stun. But she has something we don’t have and that’s her Daddy’s big trust fund. Taken seriously, someday, she might want, I bet. She’ll have to dye that bright blonde head and turn into a
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