They've all got this gait,
this way that they walk
all pretentious and frustrated,
which mirrors their talk.
The man hasn't shaved in nearly a week,
so sharp patchy hairs leak out of his cheek
and something smells awful, it clings to his clothes
it's ***, and it follows wherever he goes.
The woman is painted in fantastic makeup
it's wet and smudged; she's afraid of a breakup
She asserts herself to me at the counter
her tongue is a blade and her words are all sour
The son, who's probably no older than seven
is stupid and young and loves both his parents.
and ever since mommy has ran out of luck
He's learned some new words like ****, ****, and ****.
"new daddy" says them when he's home from work
and mommy gets mad and calls him a ****,
and she tells her one son to go play with toys
but he can still hear them and that terrible noise-
-of her hitting the floor.
So yeah, they're at laser quest
they're suppose to have fun
but the kid is too small
to have his own gun.
so what does the ****** do
who's here with his "wife?"
they ignore their one son
like he's not part of their life.
I'm sorry, but you ******* are here for your son
if you wanted alone time, don't tease him with fun
he's small and impressionable; he’s had a bad start
The least you can do is give him some heart.
Yo- I work at a laser tag place and sometimes it gives me inspiration to write. I've seen the second half of this poem happen a few times and I just got really frustrated and decided to sort of vent about it- little touchy. I added the middle stanzas because thats kind of my interpretation of what's going on behind the scenes, idk- hate it, love it- idrc