Sunday, November 1, 2009

dear mother.

listen to what im saying
stop hearing what you want
such a high price you're paying
for every jibe and each taunt.

you scream there's something wrong with me
you twist the words i speak
you invent these problems; i try to see
how you think i'm such a freak.

stop imagining things that don't exist
im not as fucked as you think
im not entirely disaster-kissed;
i can float; i dont just sink.

here is my solution:
take some prozac.

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