"stumpy" poems
be conceited
love yourself
love every single aspect of yourself
your thunder thighs, your braces
your back fat, the way your jaw clicks whenever you eat
something crunchy
your allergies, your stumpy fingers
the hair on your arms, and the way that you always click your
pen even when people ask you to stop
love yourself
love yourself until the day you die
and if anyone ever calls you conceited
you tell them
**** yes i am
why arent you?
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Truth is,
I suppose I really would like to be one of those girls
who frollicks in the sun in white dresses
and ballet slipper pink cardigans.
But I can't.
Something inside me fears it,
I don't feel... safe in those colors.
They don't fit me.
I'd like to look like Kalel from Wonderland Wardrobe,
but she's like every other girl,
tiny and naturally cute.
I'm too big to wear those clothes.
I have a big head and big arms
and a long torso
and strong horse legs.
I'd like to be a lady,
cute and sweet,
but I was born unfeminite.
I was born ugly.
A goblin amongst humans.
I'd like to wear my hair like that
and flaunt just like all of them,
but I could never do that,
for I was not made like that.
I wasn't made
for lace and ribbons
I was made for leather and chains
even better, a box,
a cardboard box suits me best
as it'd hide all my features
and keep my hidden from the world.
Phantom of the opera,
I do love the opera,
covering my pig face in a mask
and stumpy body in a black shroud.
I'm doomed to be like this.
I wanted to be like the other girls so bad
but I couldn't
and I started to hate it,
hate those colors
and stupid flowers
and ribbons
and makeup-
because they didn't look good on me,
made me look like a fool.
And now I'm trapped in
black, black,
black,
black
and more black
only ever black
black and bulky
because my body isn't like theirs
and my head is big
and like that of a pig,
so I'm stuck hiding
knowing I'll never be able to wear
white dresses
or those Ballet Slipper Pink cardigans.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
A crazy ************
got in my face
the other day.
"This is my shop!,
I put the work in this ************
see ya'll young people come in here
trying to mess up my shop,
this is MY SHOP!"
"Mmhmm," a fat ****
in the corner affirmed.
Crazy *************
are often your
barbers.
He's pulled this **** before,
I've seen him do it.
He'll just throw the clippers down
and get in somebody's face,
while they flip dumbly through
Sports Illlustrated.
It's funny as hell.
He had spittle
in cakes at the corners of his mouth
that wiggled
like eggs on an unbalanced beam
and fat lips that looked
like rotten peach slivers;
all brown and ugly pink.
He's in his forties and stumpy.
But all he ever does is yell.
I punched him
right in his lips.
His teeth were hard and scratched my knuckles,
but he backstepped,
gave me one of those crazy people
"I might just cut your head off" looks
and walked to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Crazy *************
think
they're the crazier than everybody else.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 9:28 AM UTC
Tree,
your veins are in your earth
my veins are inside me
the years are old in you and your leaves are fresh
you remind me of the tree part in my right foot
My bedroom's in the bushy head in my mind in my solar brain,
my ankle is the shoulder to the stumpy central branch of my leg
heavy layers of red aged mountain, my earth is the most pages
the place where nerve lines swim again young immortal creases through thousand piles
a networking for only the soul, the mind, the heart
geometric thoughts that string out the tongue
making crosses between finished rock, hardness too late and fresh like skin
I am more inner than stone, thinner, longer, loopier
nerve lines tiny things turn into staffs in the air in my arms
different than tree parts I am rimmed and mudding with water
my rippling veins at the bottom of my foot, is the surface of my sea upside-down
I bet you feel good I'm calling your earth the sky
I am full of stuff, the way dirt packs together to create things without hands
and your earth is where some of my veins should stand up too
I am always alive like you
the lines in the earth of me and my earth holding up the living wooden door
standing from my ankle
walking on the earth like my veins are not there
like you stand on the earth like your veins aren't even there
yet you are the earth, brown and green
and you base the earth starry
swimming in the deep black earth
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
spanish rose lingers in the corner
with some french sailor who is
just a breathing caricature
illustrated in ink and animated by alcohol
his four letter word vocabulary with deluxe cardboard delivery
but its his eyes that capture you
swimming in hundred proof they are
wise with miles of years
and wicked in a smoky dark room way
but she is too busy to notice
flirting with the stranger across the room
a traveling salesman with boxes
of rusty trinkets for crafty sale
meanwhile old jack is swinging on the gibbet
talking away the hours with his old flame and friends
he is a threadbare imitation of me
and that suits you fine
long as its three meals and a slice of pie
the essentials of easy living wrapped up in a lace hanky
its a little ***** and on the down low
but the whole digging in some
rich kids ***** laundry for loose change
never appealed to you all that much
so attached to old jack come to make your stand
both barrels smoking hot and ready to let loose
should any fool step to the line
we all watched with amusements
as the magician open his show with a shock and awe
that sputtered and fell
but we all loved his punch lines so much that we
cheered him on all night
the chorus girls got us all up and dancing little past three
and the suave singer had us cheek to cheek by dawn
it was another night to remember to be sure
memorable as stumpy swimming with the gators
we all shuffle barefoot in the sand
to our dusty beds
and dream sweetly of fiveash romance novella endings
and the beauties of dawn
we will be up to no good once more
all loud and proud
young and full'a *****
as a spring moon crests over seaside town
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
My ***** have dropped
My legs are stumpy
My face is drooling as well!
My nose is running down my face
I'm potbellied too
My clothes don't fit
My hair is gone
I'm freezing off my **** !
My eyesight is crap
I can't hear a thing
Lets face it folks
If I wasn't snow
I'd be on Jeremy Kyle!
With 15 kids and a wife that sleeps around
Thank Christ I'm gone when the sun comes out and she doesn't take me home!
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
The life I am living is
Slithering into ambiguity
It's nothing
But a ruined temple
Around the soul
There are hemps and weeds
Preventing humanity
The life I am living is
A stumpy tree having
Neither birds on the top
Nor passers by below
The life I am living is
Like a pathetic **********
That bearing the burden
Of seduced dark nights
Conceiving inevitability
.
The life I am living resembles
The valiant on spider's web
The blood is evaporated
The body is withered
.
The life I am living
Seems to be the corpse
Ready for funeral
Receiving
Final praises and curses
.
The life I am living is
Irrelevant to the world
The life I am living is
AN AMBIGUOUS SONG
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 11:20 AM UTC
This poem,
I pen,
for a dazzling *****
a putrid beauty,
a gilded deceiver,
who plays me around
and tosses me out
as whenever she feels.
No heart beats inside her,
she is harsh and uncaring,
she's cold and unfeeling,
passion-inflaming,
setting fire to thoughts
of her and none else.
Leaves me restless,
powerless,
doting upon
that big nose,
those sweet lips,
her stumpy legs,
her luscious hair,
her gentle face,
that lovely smile-
her,
her,
her,
in a word-
her,
that hideous girl!
I am lost,
dazed,
unsure-
Is this love?
Is it hate?
Or is this something,
in between?
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
"it’s time to go
to bed NOW,
right NOW
right this second,
or you are going to get a spanking."
bubbling up with
happy glee
the stumpy little
legs ran
and danced
around
ignorning this stern
sound booming,
this stern
sound looming.
"get upstairs,
NOW,
get into bed,
i’ll be up
in a minute,
to give you
that spanking."
Uh oh!
her fat little
squishy three-year-old
legs
carried her up
as she ran up
the stairs.
heart beating
fast with fear
of impending doom.
coming into the room
she looked about
desperately,
spying a book,
into her bed
she took.
shoving that book
inside her jammy
bottoms,
and covered her bare
little ***
but,
good.
lying there waiting,
with
layers of
help
so thickly,
so comfortingly,
spread in between,
that big hand,
and her little ***
filled with dread.
The little one,
so happy
just moments ago,
not so happy
now,
just lying there
waiting.
filling with
looming fear.
oh what a life,
an eternal seesaw
of happy and sad
mad and glee.
book and
pajama bottoms,
sheet,
and blanket.
he’ll never see,
that book that’s,
a covering me.
waiting with dread,
the minutes ticking
in the dark,
ever so slowly,
an eternity.
the huge giant
finally came up,
big shoes,
booming each
step of the way.
he
gave a good swat,
then out
he went,
closing the door,
shaking a finger
and saying,
“i don’t want to hear any more."
giggled
did she,
and thougth to
herself,
i didn’t even
feel that
and he didn’t,
even know.
hee hee hee..
pulling that book
away from her
be-hinny,
she stretched
out on her back
so comfortably,
so calmly,
and very
peacefully.
so happy
was she,
with her,
Oh So Smart
3-year-old
little self.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
I would rather
be a
wanderer
a belongerer
to no body
to no country
a loose end
than to bob
eagerly
at every tug
of the yarn's
end
whose
wound-up
mass
amasses me
a wriggled up
ball of
wriggles
I would rather
be alone
than
scooped up
in a basket
with others
of my
supposed
ilk
and held in
by the
over-under
wicker
edges
domed up
for containment
ominous
clicks and
scrapes
of my
destiny
clattering
and chattering
above
fraying
frizzled
frazzled bits
smoothing out
as my length
is tugged
up and up
like a long
slurpy
noodle
I would rather
be loose
and scrappy
and stumpy
and ragged
the one that
nobody loves
the discarded
refuse of a
more discerning
eye
than be made
surreptitiously
into somebody
else's
jumper
© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
That's why scientists use lawyers for experiments instead of rats
Stumpy replied, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out-
But ten dollars is ten dollars
Don't listen to him- he isn't even your father
But when I woke up in the morning
I was on that guy's mustache again
If she isn't good enough for her own family-
She sure as hell isn't good enough for you.
The parrot said, ''I give up,
What'd you do with the ship?''
NASA responded with a one-line memo: "Thaw the chicken."
I don't have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you!
When I'm driving around, my zip code keeps changing.
The cop asked, "What's he like?" The little boy replied,
"Beer and women with big ****
Frustrated the man said, "Put the cat on the phone,
I'm lost and I need directions."
The stoner looks at him for a second, smiles
And says, "You're an ambulance!"
That felt good, but my hand still hurts like crazy!
You idiot! Now we have to **** in the boat!
“But I'm not pregnant,” she says.
“Well, you're not out of the ditch yet,” he says.
The boy started off, "Hi, my name's Chuck… --" and the farmer shot him.
'Hey, I don't mind you ******* my wife,
But can you stop using my *** as a scoreboard!?!'
The police are looking for some hardened criminals
'Dear baby Jesus. If you ever want to see your mother again..'
So the crocodile bit his legs off.
And the string says, "Nope- I'm a frayed knot."
Mar 18, 2010
Mar 18, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
AN EVENING
At the time of evening
She was at opposite roof of him
And he was other side of road
Eyes were on each other
They were smiling for no reason.
Aware with the others, yet…
Hearts blooms when he sends flying kiss
She catches it
Cover her face with same hand.
When mislead wind play with her hair
That time her DUPATTA hovering
Making trouble
She tries it to hold properly
He smirked on her blend behavior
Girl snidely got angry
Stumpy turn around
Then he caught his ear with queer face
And she burst into laugh.
©copiright
SAddAM HuSeN
2014
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
a spanish rose, she lingers in the corner
with some french sailor who is
just a breathing caricature
illustrated in ink and animated by alcohol
his four letter word vocabulary with deluxe cardboard delivery
but its his eyes that capture you
swimming in hundred proof they are
wise with miles of years
and wicked in a smoky dark room way
but she is too busy to notice
flirting with the stranger across the room
a traveling salesman with boxes
of rusty trinkets for crafty sale
meanwhile old jack is swinging on the gibbet
talking away the hours with his old flame and friends
he is a threadbare imitation of me
and that suits you fine
long as its three meals and a slice of pie
the essentials of easy living wrapped up in a lace hanky
its a little ***** and on the down low
but the whole digging in some
rich kids ***** laundry for loose change
never appealed to you all that much
so attached to old jack come to make your stand
both barrels smoking hot and ready to let loose
should any fool step to the line
we all watched with amusements
as the magician open his show with a shock and awe
that sputtered and fell
but we all loved his punch lines so much that we
cheered him on all night
the chorus girls got us all up and dancing little past three
and the suave singer had us cheek to cheek by dawn
it was another night to remember to be sure
memorable as stumpy swimming with the gators
we all shuffle barefoot in the sand
to our dusty beds
and dream sweetly of fiveash romance novella endings
and the beauties of dawn
we will be up to no good once more
all loud and proud
young and full'a *****
as a spring moon crests over seaside town
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
I could feel him staring, his eyes piercing the flame whilst clenching the head of a bottle. I looked up from twisting the new Flemish string I was making. “Will” I said with a sneering lift in my cheek and keeping my tongue stiff to force back a chuckle. He kept staring, I guess it was amazingly beautiful, the warming fire we had. The travel we had endured from the south had been long and challenging. Rain to fill god’s own goblet had been upon us for days and the wind was no maiden of help. I let him stare just a while longer because this part of the land we were in was damp, and not from the rain, it was damp with people like me. “William, behind you!” I shouted with such the ferocity of a lone wolf fighting of it's own pack from the **** that the stumpy boy shot awake his eyes, coming back into this world of living and stood abruptly to his feet, spinning on his heel and slicing with a dagger that he unsheathed in one simple motion. Before his arm could fully extend he kept turning and stopped looking straight at me. Just watching how fast he did all of that was impressive, but his dancing was even more of a show. “No need to laugh, old man. I didn't know you were lying”. He said sharply in a rough welsh filled with annoyance after I made him wake from his fiery gem. Once my shoulders stopped jiggling up and down from laughter, I came back to crafting my string whilst giving him my reason. “Look around boy, or don’t, you just did a perfect spin for me, I do say it was a perfect motion that even the princess of the eastern lands would be jealous
of”. His eyes tensed with a stabbing look and sat on his **** next to the great oak that sheltered us from the rain. I knew he would listen to me now as I had made his face turn redder than his hair.
To be continued..
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Breaking barriers,
beyond the brain.
A mindless mind,
is a foolish game.
Beyond the brains waves,
a smile saved.
Mother Nature grins,
we have sinned.
The chainsaws growl,
a horrific song.
Teeth tear into wood,
this feels so wrong.
Looking at a forest,
and seeing a profit.
As Frost once told,
"Nature's first green is gold."
The minds behind the mindless,
that chop, cut, and ****
Corrupt money makers,
bending the workers will.
Will we ever yield,
turning forest into stumpy field?
Or does money dictate the mind?
Only time can tell.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
*There was no way out of this
She manoeuvred her body between a stone and a hard place
Picked up her hurting bones
And sighed
Relief ...
Anticipation and fear running through her veins
How it came to this she couldn't even explain
shivering as a cold chill ran down her spine
Like the stumpy finger of jack frost etching out a delicate and
elaborate design
Not a night to be out hunting or waiting around
But needs must
The sweet smell of redemption hung tantalizingly on a moment
Time was for surrendering all
Never looking behind
Stepping on stones
There was no way back from now
She turns quickly
A need to hold her breath
has her in a suffocating embrace
A shadow creeping the walls
Beckoning
Lost souls will sell their souls on nights as cold as
snow cover mountains
She breathes in
Closes her eyes and surrenders to the moment
She will awaken only when it is time
No cracks of light lye here
Not even from the broken street lamp
A shiver and a fall from grace*
****
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Gaggling gaggles are bluffing, and they can imagine being immersed in screens in five-minute positions; they burst like imaginary greats with low IQ! They're shrewd! Navel peeps and self-appointed snowmobile self-propelled! “They maniacally print little-known relationships as they turn from *** lovers to consolations! The World puffing on stilts stands for hijackers of hope!
The pumpkins of grandparents swim like yellow rotting fruit in the buzzing idiocy! S rhinoceros-brain gorillas boldly stab their fangs while it lasts a night of artificial seance! Only the suddenly attacked lizard millionaires and fake Predators still bask in the golden sands! For every other livelihood, an enduring creature is dying with its wind-lined wind cramps exploding daily into an arrogant phlegm-like!
World-beautiful mermaids also all pass out; thirsty intellect has already escaped the conversion and another stumpy **** is being made in electric brains! Man stands as a selfish carnivorous pond and the Executioner's Time Index also returns! The constantly functioning Brain is constantly shrinking and cannot feed more Estonians; the outrageous free thinking thickens on a pinhead! Airborne dirt poisons the drying up possibilities!
In the lap of lasting Peace before Man, the suddenly attacked, crowded camp of penniless caresses clings to, while thinking intellectuals can shovel fu… diligently after others!
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 2:58 AM UTC
All of out questions,
Their trembling hands comes out
Of its fury of
Wanting to know it all
To simply see again:
Grandma, one slipper on,
Hair a mess,
Both dogs by her lop-sided side,
Watering dead plants
In the afternoon sun.
Father, stirring grease-thick bacon
With a fork on a cast iron pan,
About to get his stomach tucked
For reasons of a few more years,
A few more days,
A few more breaths before the last.
Uncle, lost uncle, long-haired
****** willow tree legs to short and
Stumpy to reach the pavement
On the motorcycle you stole,
You couldn't afford, you borrowed,
Uncle, lost and never found Uncle.
Mother, world traveler, both eyes set
On the outstretched hand of the Southern Pacific,
The Solomon and the Coral,
Clouds your new children, roll, and rocks
Between your tanned feet,
Your sunburnt, too-tough-to-die-yet, toes.
Sister sorrow, sojourner of the mind,
Ok, see, hear this:
There will never be enough time.
North, South, West, and now the East
Is calling you again - listen;
Cypresses and Red Maples are as good
As any brother who knows your real name.
I, I,
I
Is for
Another time.
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 1:54 PM UTC
I'm nothing. I will forever be nothing.
How could He?
Why would He send me here to feel doubt and lack of self worth?
I have no purpose, I have no emotion.
Just raw me.
Just skin, salt-water and tears.
Just a stumpy body with no brain
trying to prove something to someone who's not even paying attention.
Self worth out the window- starting from scratch.
How would I like my life to go?
That idea- its far away out of reach
where I cannot grasp it.
I'm not tall enough or smart enough
I'm not good enough;
I'll never reach the moon or fall among the stars,
I'm just falling constantly falling and failing
everyone around me...
Everyone knows I'm not good enough,
but they don't want to say it.
I've disappointed, let down, and lost loves
Don't pay attention to this small breeze blowing by
I am but a mist.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Your like, look at the bloke with no legs,
I be like, I can run faster than you mouth.
Yes I many be stumpy and do these shorts
look big on me, but I'll never be shorter
than your short mindedness.
Running your gob like your mouth,
matches your shoesize.
Dam why would you even admit that..
well I haven't got height but boy I have length
not like you...
Do you shop at baby gap for then tiny toes,
I'll always be higher than those belittling
others.
for there short term gratitude.
My strength isn't vertical,
its that I can stand taller
than all the misgivings that others
stigma me with.
Before they realise the truth,
that is I can see a lot
more truth than you can,
the taller they are the more noise
they make when they fall.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
The milk spills
and spills
and spills,
The table still set in neat little rows -
too long for the runner -
Dripping onto chairs and floor in swathes of ivory,
But the milk is always spilling in this house
Running from eyes and mouths and ears -
This is what it means to grow up,
Crying years of spilled milk
Like they'll help fill the seats with warm bodies
Or light the candles's stumpy wicks,
Where you sleep just to keep the weeping at bay,
in the hopes that somehow,
it's all just a dream,
But you wake up every morning at 7 on the dot
with milk crusted in each eye and bottles surrounding the bed,
milk teeth standing guard beneath the pillows,
Like maybe you were a mother,
once,
or a child,
Like you still are.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
It was Donna Darling’s annual dinner party
A Cotillion approved eatery
Six spoons and six forks
The wrong one, and all the glares one bore
And then waddled in Miss Pillsbury
Her stumpy feet too short to
Do anything but waddle
Uninvited she was
As she always was
Squelching her way
through the narrow doorway.
As fourteen perfectly styled heads
Shuffled their feet under the table.
Boom! Clash!
Six spoons crashing
Six forks attacking
Poor old lady Judith’s knee
As she groaned in pain.
Donna scratching her head
Eyes darting through her invite list
Top-to-bottom, Top-to-bottom
Screech! Went the chair,
Scratching Donnas hand polished marble floors
Like nails on a chalkboard.
Oh, and what she did next,
Almost sent Donna to her upstairs bedroom
To pop some unprescribed ******
As the stout woman grabbed soup
with her chubby hands
And started gulping it down
Before it ran through her fingers.
Frazzled Donna tried, oh she tried
To salvage the integrity
Of her fancy dinner party
Unfortunately, at the moment
it was running down the table
From Miss Pillsbury’s double chin.
Swooosh! Went old lady Judith
As she skated across the marble
Like an Olympic figure skater
Only to crash into Donna’s perfectly organized
stainless steel kitchenware.
Donna ran out screaming and crying
Nobody’s seen her since.
And as for Miss Pillsbury,
I’d be surprised if she noticed any of it
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
What God has put asunder, I have joined together.
He chuckles at this somewhat self-consciously,
His clientele comprised primarily of gentlemen of a certain age,
Most of whom have stepped off to the altar
Twice or thrice, some even more,
Whose wives will be, at least pro tem,
The mistresses of the Moorish bastardizations
Being commissioned by their husbands,
Vaguely Iberian grotesqueries
Christened Sin Cuidado and Villa Tranquilla
Festooned with cornucopias of cornices and cupolas,
Featuring vaulted cathedral ceilings and open-prairie floor plans,
Impossible to cool in the ninety-degree dawn of August
Or heat during the all too frequent cold snaps,
(Such being noted to him by a visitor
From a staid Boston architectural firm,
To which he replied, *Save that for the classrooms, pal.
I give the people what they want, dad,
And these folks are first, last, and forever
All about the façade.*)
It is not, however, his effort to turn Florida’s East Coast
Into a giant movie set for the stories of Don Juan or El Cid
Which inspires him to utter his inversion of the marital vow.
He has moved beyond being a mere designer;
He is a man of substance, a builder in the larger, cosmic sense,
And so he is here, in this sticky, sweltering venue
Which disappointed Spaniards named after a rat’s oral cavity,
To make a new Venice, complete with electric gondolas,
Cloisters which would put any in the Old World to shame,
Gesturing, bellowing, and cajoling,
A Prospero of sawhorses and steam shovels,
As displaced Seminoles and colored laborers
Sweat and swear and stumble
As they dredge swamps and hack down stumpy mangroves
In the service of his vision, the aggrandizement of his bottom line,
Arm-twisting the caprices of drought and hurricane
To serve the pricier whims
Of a gaggle of DuPonts and Wanamakers.
It’s not that I don’t believe in a higher power, he will demur,
I’m simply not averse to some slight enhancement of His plans.
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 10:18 AM UTC
Roberts came over
a big kid
broad shoulders.
We were over
by the far end
of the sport field
waiting for
the PE teacher
to come over
and arrange us
for teams.
See that wood
over there
he said
pointing
with his stumpy finger.
We looked over
to woods near
the playing field.
We nodded.
Well I had some
bit up there
the other lunchtime
he said.
Bit?
said Trevor.
Girl you ******
nice piece
quite willing
and all that.
All what?
another kid asked.
***
if you know
what that is
Roberts said.
What was it like?
Trevor said.
Like falling
into a warm bath
Roberts replied.
The PE teacher
was crossing
the field.
The kids
looked towards him.
Roberts made
gestures
with his
plump hand
and smiled.
I shrugged
my shoulders
and looked away
wondering
what position
the PE prat
would want
me to play.
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 9:49 AM UTC