I sit here and remember back,
Rememeber the times that i've had
some are good and some are bad,
but to me thats nothing at all.
i remember when i was a little girl,
maybe no older then four.
me and my cousin's would mix the drinks and pick people off the floor.
some were stained in their own puke others were just to confused,
but not as confused as me,
for i was only four.
and by the time i could say a thing,
and say this is what i hate,
mixing and serving drinks and picking people off the floor,
no one would listen,
but to them its all im good for.
then i feel the pain's rush,
and see the blood drip down my arm,
no, its not a cut,
i've been stabed.
stabed by someone i've always loved.
but this is where im gonna stop for now,
for that is just the beginning.
and for the end,
its still to come.
but even without it,
i've seen it all.
***this is a poem about when i was little and my grandparents would have parties and my cousin\'s and i would have to mix and serve drinks, and some times we would have to pick someone off the floor who had fallen. yes, i was stabed by my grandmother because i told her how i hated it and that i wanted to do something fun...but that wasnt all her fault because she was suffering from elstimers and she didnt know what she was doing. please rate this poem...thanks
