Growing up she used to daydream
that her father was a drunk or on drugs.
He never had a job.
He never spent time with the kids.
He was always somewhere else
doing god knows who.
There was never a good explanation.
Was he insane?
Could he love?
A bad seed?
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Author: annieepoetry
I am poet. I am woman. I write with my thumbs.
Read my poems. Tell me what You think. You may find the love poem you always thought someone wrote for you. Or the one you meant to write
But
Becareful
lovers tell zingers and often break hearts
Milky Way Earth U.S.A Madison WI
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Annieepoetry 