“She is a weird one!” They would often say.
“Here comes trouble! Let’s keep out of her way.”
These strange people behave like I’m prey.
Why do they tease and taunt like kids at play?
Some adults are weird and seem immature.
Their inner child and prankish ways seem pure.
Am I wrong to feel bad by their muses?
It feels like having these life long bruises.
The real world should stop adult beatings
from spouses or friends who like slap sticking.
People should greet each other, ‘How are you?’
instead of wondering why they are true.
Why are you weird for not being the same
and stay forever in our hurtful games?
Labels of wicked witch or plain crazy
are harsh in a world that is dim and quite hazy.
Through my eyelash streaked tears of betrayal,
my hate becomes but improved portrayals.
The hissings of victims are divided.
Their cold hearts are conquered with swords guided.
A smug-faced bulldog watches from the hills.
He lifts his leg and pronounces his spills.
Her bad dog was not trained well enough.
She ended up scooping that stinky stuff.
After all that and with her dog nearby,
their good friendship will forever be nigh.
Revised on 07-14-2006 at 01:45PM…
Addendum: 12/16/2007 12:52PM. Added anold Yahoo! 360 avatar above last stanza of poem…
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Oh, John Jr! That’s longer than I would ever imagine, especially for your conditions! So I shouldn’t rant like this…