You little liar
Fucking fagot
Trouble maker
You fucking faker
Cocksucker
You mother fucker

Piece of shit
You worthless prick
You bad bad boy
No fucking toy
On your knees
Rice in the skin
You sinner
You loser
Take off your fucking clothes

Yeah under wear too.
Stand there, hold this book in the air
No fucking food
Shut the fuck up
You deserve this
You make me pissed
Don’t drink the methadone.
Don’t tell anyone.
Or I’ll get you.
It’s the family secret
I don’t want anyone knowing my business
If the Dr. asks
You fell down the stairs.
There I sat being stitched up
Remaining in the glare of lights and the eyes of stares.
“Our father who art in Heaven hallowed by thy name…” alleviate me from this emotional pain.

Photo/Painting: Krishna Personality of God-Head, Artist Unknown.