The hardness of a fist is nothing compared to the verbal,
But I got used to it, flashing my mind into the supernatural;
When mom is comatose, and dad is a maelstrom,
The best bet is to sit on your bum.
Ignore, deflect, and never dissect,
It's better to pretend ignorance than be correct;
A small seed, more of a spore,
Will win a luxury of an ignored rapport.
But when she was able, Memaw would chime,
To remind "tall-children" that sleep is for nighttime;
It didn't always work, and again my pain,
But Grandma could coax the demons from my brain.
As time moved forward, I grew into a teen,
Now there's no denying I'm an old one with experiences of the obscene;
Mom overdosed, and Dad a violent delete,
And Nana was still my literal athlete.
Time accelerates on, it always seems to trick us,
We feel forever in our young bones, it's ridiculous;
But Memaw propped me up and carried me,
And now I return the favor in the pallbearer finality.
