He spits it at me like a sour feeling;
“Child.”
Stay still and maybe I’ll disappear.
“Well?” the threat stabs at the space between us.
“What do you want then?”
Everything is rhetorical.
“Are you listening? Can you see what I’m saying?”
“You need to grow up.”
No options.
Doesn’t he know that I already did?
He finally leaves and guilt lies beneath me in a pool of tears.
Maybe he’s right. But then again,
Suddenly I’m not hungry anyway. I’d rather just
Stay put, where no-one can see me.
Always imagining running away
But maybe I’m just being a wimp;
“Pathetic, that’s what you are.”
Maybe he’s right.
Pathetic child.
You need to grow up.
Well that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Tricky Pancakes 