A quest to watch the 2018 match made in heaven in the worst of all possible seats the worst of all possible local locations
smells mix of stale *****, yesterdays cigarettes and **** oozes through clothing to no end
Not a seat in the house with idiots screaming over one another cursing through what has never been considered sensibility hurling insults meant to hurt, seriously, and they do to no end
This is where you might have been all those Saturday afternoons left alone to fend for yourself with enough 7Up to ruin Saturday supper.
Hours later, daddy lovingly stroking his ego living vicariously through your tears waiting for just the right moment to remind you that he loves you one of life’s many riddles
WonderWoman underwear bunched between Dora the Explorer socks at your feet curling into a corner after you’ve ruined mom’s home-made Saturday supper with too much 7Up
The tears don’t come when you cry alone to no end.
((To: JM in hopes she heals))
I was working on some writing with a fellow poet. We wrote about some very sensitive issues including this. This is mine personally. Other than teenage bullying (water off a duck), I've never experienced this kind of abuse. Non one could imagine what it might be like for a little kid. I can't speak from experience.