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poetry about ptsd, being bullied and autism and who these thing make up and affect my adult life and the relationships in them. +++++warning my contain foul and strong language ++++++
Mom
I was just telling you about my
Fucking tattoos
That
Seems simple
You agreed to it
Then you said that i
Was bullied
In fucking grade 8
Yes mom i do remember
That fucked up year...
Not my fucking fault
But that was the first and last of the bullying
Or did you forget
You know that
Is a fucking
Kick below the
Fucking belt
Never mention that
A fucking gain.
If you want to be happy
Let others be happy
Said the Dalai Lama
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