I was once in Mexico with my dad,
his friend,
and his friend's son.
Well in Mexico,
dogs roam the streets unleashed.
I started to shake
and my fingernails dug into my palms.
On high alert even the slightest of sounds
range in my ears.
My dad's friend's son asked me why the fuck I was having a freak out.
I told him I had a phobia of dogs.
Then the classic: "What do you mean? Puppies are soo cute!"
I told him i had trauma.
"Well that's your fault then, dogs wouldn't hurt a fly."
But all the dogs I've come across
have left scars.
YOU ARE READING
Unhinged
RandomAn ongoing memoir of my life as an unhinged, impulsive person with OCD abd BPD. Written in short, narrative poems that I hope you can relate to in some form or another. Content Warning: Obsessive impulses and OCD, eating disorder (pica), cussing an...
