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65 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
65 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
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That Ain't Chocolate, Son
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2020-11-15
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***
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There are nine hedgehogs
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in my house. I have nothing
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to do with them because, every time
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my mother or my brothers
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hold one in their hands,
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the tiny creature immediately
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sets to work
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shitting out a log.
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I may be evil
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and belonging to foreign lands,
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but I abhor having
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such filth
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on my hands.
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So tell me, mother,
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why do you hate that I
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always close my door
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when you act as if
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everything of mine
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is actually yours?
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My pad of art paper,
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saved for stormy weather,
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gone one day
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into the paper shredder
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to serve as bedding
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for ungrateful creatures
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who couldn't tell the difference
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between a slaughter
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and a wedding.
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"I don't care
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that you're busy having fun
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with your brother you usually torment.
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That's not the purpose
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for which you are meant.
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Be a good girl and help him take
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the hedgehog wheels upstairs."
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How delicious it is to say
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that actually I don't have to spend any pains
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on those who rob me of the sun:
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"Not my pet, not my problem."
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Because of them, I have to
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live in a house full of
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poop and paper shreds and
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shit-covered wheels that squeal
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at all hours of the night.
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Somehow, I don't believe
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you're half as "low-income"
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as you claim to be.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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