Sick of the burns, Tired of the pulling, Stressed from the itching I chopped off all my hair. […]
That I day I was naive I let your lips behold All that they did not deserve.
My pillow calls me Blankets beckon tired bones Sweet slumber I crave.
What’s for lunch? Oh no. Apple—95 calories My hip bones sharpen.
Swoosh! My black and white tails slices across the kitchen table
Boop-boop-boop-clang! As the cup falls off the table…