Bedtime Stories For Little Nobody

My son made a fist and punched me across the face. He said I’ll never be his father again.

My mother pointed the steak knife at my chest and told me to piss off.

My son has never called me mom.

When my mom says things will get better I swear at her with my thoughts.

I resent my father for being timid. I mean my mother.

I never miss anybody because I’ve never had any friends. At least that’s what I make of never missing anybody.

Acoustic guitar and sad thoughts over solemn voice reverberating staccato.

My mothers boyfriend is a stand up guy and I resent that because I’m not; yet I haven’t the desire to be one. a paradox to resent something you do not want to be.

Go to sleep now. Tomorrows never coming.

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