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.
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