There was a little girl and she had quite
the curious curl in the middle of her cupid's
bow lip. That was due her take on life, her
belief her demands be met without a
single moment's hesitation. Lest her vivid
scorn and mighty umbrage be unleashed
upon the unwary so they would rue the
very day they challenged her divine right.
She could screech such decibels of rage
that the air around her shattered,
leaving listeners with half-broken eardrums.
Her mighty fists would flail and bruise,
hitting soft flesh targets, causing victims to
completely loose their cool. Her outrage
and nasty rants gave headaches without
cessation as her rancour and demands
melted resolve and victims simply
surrendered to finally achieve peace.
Her desperate mother found a job,
looked about for paid child help, and
became a cause celebre for a nanny-rescue
line. That discussed options for frantic
mothers but little relief until one granny
said "I'll take the darling child, no mind,
and trash the insubordinate hubris out of
her hide! Bring her over and take yourself
off to saving opportunities that beckon."
I raised you, a miserable misbegotten
child who felt my role on Earth was solely to
do your brutish bidding. I whomped sensibility
into your stubborn head, and I'm prepared to
do likewise with your child. Saving the world
from yet another surrender to the horrors
of an egocentric, entitled drama queen.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Granny's Role
Labels:
Poetry
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