I see you in the corner of my eye,
dancing like you have ants in your pants.
You’re not self-conscious because you’re louder
than a bull horn and blunter than a lead pipe.
If it came down to it, your acid words could
burn anyone and your cold stare could
freeze them to their spot.
You can be sweet as candy, but angry
as a bull and more stubborn than a mule.
You aren’t disadvantage, but your heart has
been abandoned.
It is healing two fatal scars, one from your drunk
father and the other from your drunk mother.
You smoke away your problems with cigarettes
and swallow the pain with alcohol.
In reality you need love and protection, but
feel you are in dire need of male attention.
These men pick at the scab in your heart and
stab you with the knife of deception, then leave it open
to breathe in the oxygen of depression.