Neglectfulfamily Stories

First Person Story. Lacking the strength to be able to wield a weed wacker was one mark against me. Another mark was that even the most resilient of plant life died in my care. Unable to sell a five cent piece of bubble gum was the last straw that should have put me out of the Williamson's house, but desperation won over. I didn't like Brows or Patsy the moment I laid eyes on them, and had it not been for Charlotte I would have left. Since when do four year olds look as though their lives are crumbling around them?

poem 🦴