poetry
The rain pours down
And the wipers on the car
Go pat pat pat
And the boy in the back
Seat goes pick pick pick
And the hairs from his
Chinny chin chin
Pepper his white polo sweater
Like so many tiny sins
The rain pours down
And the line on the cell phone
Goes click click click
And the wife in the front seat
Says shit shit shit
And all she hears coming from
The other end is
I’m sorry
There’s no room at the asylum
I kissed a prince
With a hole in his soul
Seated on a pile of gold
I thought our love was,
Special, I thought
My love could make
him whole
What I didn’t know
Is that when you
Pour love into
A hole
That soul
Will never be
Whole
I got better things to do
Than you
I got better things to do
Than things for you
I never got
Any thanks from you
I got better things to do
Fuck you
You called me strong
Because you were weak
You made me think
I was doing something
When really, you were just
Doing nothing
You made me work
Because you were lazy
Had me thinking
I was crazy
When really, you were just
Out drinking
Think you can act like you didn’t lie?
Think you can act like I didn’t try?
Think you can call me disloyal?
It’s called work, I toiled
I sweated, I cried, I tried
For our love for your happiness
I almost died
Ungrateful little bitch
Boy
Should have broke you
And thrown you out
Like a dirty toy
