Saturday From Hell

This evening she hated me deeply

She had made the choice

To have a really bad day

Because I was not there

They stayed at home all day

Because of the rain and the total inability

To take the bus

Maybe I deserved it

Defining me as a small man

Deserving to die in a snowpack

She spat on me while my daughter

Who sat in my lap

No inhibitions at all

How bad I was

I needed psychiatric help

And then as always

Like a hand that turned

She was so sad, her colleague

Had not done enough

I put my daughter to sleep

Waiting for the next act

Of the bipolar drama

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