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“One who is full loathes honey from the comb,
  but to the hungry even what is bitter tastes sweet.”
    ~ Proverbs 27:7 (NIV)

Born innocent
Denied mother’s breast
Amid the oohs & aahs & oh how cutes
Oh, & the comforting refrain it was her choice
She’s taught to binge on the soft prepackaged stuff
Her response the excuse
It’ll have to be
Through shock & awe
Just her way every time
And that she’ll get
Our little monster
Or else

Anyway the boys start noticing
So early she’s shot up
Tall on hormones & antibiotics & who knows what
Wouldn’t have a thing to do
With any of them
Behaving this way
Would’ve earned the label antisocial
But the excuse of PMS
Realizing off-schedule awe every time
Lets her be indulged
Our little angel
Suffers so much

With miniskirt lifting out of the way
As she kicks those long bare silken legs with pride
Knowing she could go for the big leagues
Yet never get paid
May be pay enough
An excuse for complaining to the world
Of its unfair treatment
Surely she’ll reform everything
Like some of those hunky players whose awe
Plays out between the sheets every time
Our little rebel
As if they belonged to her

More likely she parks herself at an office
By day blessing it with her radiance
Her winning smile
More reserved by night
When he’ll threaten
Scaring the hell out of her in a play of awe
The last act leaving her flattened & bruised
More ways than one
She’ll say
The excuse she says every time
She’s done nothing to provoke this
Just unluckily finds the wrong guys
I’ll say
Our little free spirit
Seems a matter of choice

    July 2015

Thanks always returns

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