Darling, Doll, Sweetheart

Alright, sweetheart.

What’s this about acting the victim,


Your dress is stained, my dear,

And your hair a rat’s nest. 

Who let you get this bad,

My darling?

And what can I do to make you

Come back over here?


Your lipstick’s smeared on your teeth

Again, doll.

How did you mess up so badly,

With your face

So messy and stained?

Wipe away those tears,


And smooth out your skirt.

No one likes a distraught

Little girl.


Don’t act like you’re the victim


Who has to hear your sobbing,

My dear?

I labor all day and all night

And you do little but

Act a prisoner.

That’s rather unbecoming

And I’d rather you stop

This little game of ours.


I’m not asking you to grow

A backbone, darling

No one wants that

But enough spine

To keep a slight wind

From knocking you over,

Sweet one,

Is of great import. 


No one likes a victim,

My dear.

It makes us


That you’re in there

And that we haven’t

Scooped you out 

Of that darling shell

Just yet.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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