Poem Mariah Anderson
Son of a bitch
Turbulent since the second grade, we’ve got history, the church and me Referrals for talking when the priest was, giving dirty looks to the guy on the crucifix And two expulsions from catholic school later, it’s no wonder this girls devotion withers Time has killed more than the crusades, and I don’t fight for higher powers I have more enjoyable wastes of hours The church and me are siblings We bicker then pretend to make up for my mother’s sake, it’s fake. The church is the math teacher who wouldn’t show me how to multiply So I didn’t learn ‘til grade nine and by then, I’d failed all the tests. And the rest is history as they say but the church and me got hell to pay It was my biggest contender ‘til I discovered it was a pretender and now my protector… Is myself.