Sister

 


So you didn’t grasp it, the
first time, you became
a statistic at the end of his fist

…and…

went back for another round?

(Yes, he was STILL not only the asshole,
but also the hair around it.)

His balls belong in a meat grinder.

It looks like YOU might’ve grown a pair, though
(or started to)
because you left him (again)
hopefully for good (this time).

I love you, Sis, but
I really want to shake women like you
by the shoulders
and scream into your face, while
watching your head, bobble
back and forth:

“You don’t need anti-depressants
because you don’t have a boyfriend!!!”

Christ, Almighty—
what does it take
to not define yourself
based on your relationship status?