the_plastic_elite aM i DiStUrBeD? Holding the brush in your infantile hand Extended, amended and perfectly tanned, The perfect personification of your lair Prissy pink nails and Barbie blonde hair- Slip into your sparkly sprite dress The happiness ‘adulteress’ which you express, And dance before yourself once again, Your heart harbors a flutter just when- The doorbell screams in your soul, spoiling your Reflected, perfected face, laid out the night before, Taking care to totter downstairs you meet your foe: And greet your ‘lover’ with an alluring hello- “Smile!” as you perform your perfected beam Daily scheme: regime that your mirror has seen, And as you stand on your own plastic feet The world sees through your elite conceit. 050115 what's it to you? who go blather from