To the Bitch eyeballing me in row 3

I am not perfect, if you read my poems you can see
That maybe this place is some sort of therapy for me

Some think that rhyming like this is gay
Well who the fuck are you to say?

We all have shit to deal with and all shit stinks
Take a huge sniff next time and tell me what you think

Judge anyone not at the stories they do tell
Who are we to say that it has not been written well?

Pages of yammering, Im more like stammering
Do these words have much truth

Remembering the time of when life sucked,
especially in my youth

I am no longer that person, for I am a Mother and a Wife
Fuck you and everyone else who passes judgement on my life....

Yeah bitch I feel your stare
What you dont like my red fucking hair?

If she saw all my ink what would she say
That I am a walking statistic, or a huge cliche?

Having a personality would be nice, even owning a voice
Her purse full of envy was a loud and screaming choice

We all have planted our crops and now its time to sow,
What would Jesus do your bumper sticker asks?
Hed say fuck that bitch in the 3rd row