Hey, mom

If you wanted to get a hold of me

How about a long letter or a phone call

I dont need to hear it through the grapevine

You selfish, sick old cow

Or how about this?

Stop talking about me

Because you tried to ruin my life

You bitch

You want to know how I feel?

Try talking to me about it

Instead of scarfing down your husband’s pain pills

And do you want to know why I hate him?

Because you locked me in the guest room

And confined my entrances and exits

To the emergency staircase

So as not to offend him

With my presence

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