Dead Meat

Dead Meat
by Skews.Me
27 November 2010

I sit in the corner with my nose to the wall, a dunce cap sits heavy on my head. I asked the wrong questions, I pissed off the teach, and now some of the kids want me dead. I said, look at these freaks playing war with their toys crying they’re mine, they’re all mine and some more. The loudest, the bullies, have most of them now, so the smarties twiddle thumbs by the door.

They wait for the bell to escape from the jerks, and hope to find peace back at home. But once there they find parents upset at the world screaming loudly and proudly mouth foaming with lore, like “this will hurt me more than it will hurt you,” drawing belt, drawing blood, drawing bumps and some bruises, swigging boozes between all the bouts and the rouses. And despite all the shouts of pain making the kids insane, people think it’s just a game ’cause aren’t we all just the same?

“Stay out of my family affairs or beware! I’m the king of my castle and don’t want a hassle: go away or arrest me, I dare you! I’m a vassel in my church see my tassel?! ‘Cause I care about my kids, they’re so smart and a whiz. Look junior has even learned how to tackle a fractal, but this is really none of your biz.

Then I start wondering where did everyone go, and get up from my corner feeling lower than low. So I look through the books for their faces and places and disgraces and whatever I find. Now is the time, I say, that bad folks do go away, and I don’t care how much you pray, you hurt my fellow children in too many ways, when the time comes for you say your last words no matter how absurd the bray. You are dead meat in my head.



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