Little people need. They fight.
They hate.
 Scream it until you hear.
They talk without pause.
 Hold the helping Hand for dear life.
Most days she could lose it all.

“Doggy farts.”
 Reach for the two-edged sword.
“I hate you.”
 What love is this?
“He annoys me 70,000 times a day!”
 A stake driven into the cutting board. Declaration.

Door slam. A fly buzzes through the room.
Knees bent, she postures.
More doors bang shut.
Words poured as wine.
A squeal, a cry.
I see her praying always.

(Visited 27 times, 1 visits today)
November 7, 2012