every morning,
i'll eat the same old,
boring, bran or wheat cereal.
Daydream of the *** schemed,
pretty scandal, leather-materialed,
***** houses.  
to be a compared to a lesser-valued human being,
born to be used, born to learn the meaning
of the word abuse.
and it feels nice, to have my hair pulled,
to be ignored, to be reminded of the the
***** deeds, done for cheaper than you were
willing to pay.
Suave, sweet, sickening,
hit me, & you upper lip bit me.
feed my animosity, I was born
an angry child. the daughter of
****-****** carpenter.
but you, you're catching on.
and for all the learning that I have
left to learn, I hope you knock some
real sense into me.
Something that makes me gasp to
breathe, a feeling more real than
ever before.