I took a bath
in hopes of cleaning away the words I've heard.
It didn't work.
Mother had told
on the way home
about how happy she made me
when I was just a child,
piggy-back ridings and compliments from strangers.
We reached our home,
and mother asked what was wrong
when she saw
all my frowns and scorns
which forced me to recall
all the things I could never told.
I love my mom and my step-mom.
I love dad and my step-dad.
And after all the words my friend
has invested.
I couldn't help but be oppressed and disgusted.
I chanted─
Dear Dorothy,
just don't die until I can get my revenge.
YOU ARE READING
OLD FILMS IN POETRIES
PoetryIt's a film in poetry─A little lively,a little sad,a little death,a little pleasure,a little desire and wishes,a little rest and a little nurturing.
