Some are very nice,
Few have some spice,
Mine is not very nice,
Calls me names, Plays head games, Puts my mind to shame, Fight And Cry,
She calls me blind
as I wear spectacles,
She yells me leper
as I have a marks on my legs,
She calls me bird-catcher
as I m very lean and thin,
Watch my soul die,
Don't want to fight,
Don't want to deal,
Don't want to steal,
Just want to heal,
Her anger is for free,
But I dont want her giving it to me,
Embarres me, Madden me, Sadden me, Ruin me,
I don't care anymore, I' m accustomed to it,
I don't need this crap,
One second she's nice, the next she has spice,
Stop your fronting and leave your grunting,
We fight again and again, to this life there is no end.
She is my step mother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it is very hard to have successful stepfamiles....hope yours improves.....the last line summed it up all up in a way.....hope you have a Happy Birthday tomorrow....Vallerie