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Donna Ferguson Poem
Death wish
Praying for cancer like a convict prays for parole, just blow out my brains and sell
whatever remains as poor white trash. I’d even accept kidney failure as a secondary to
the revenge you dished out. ‘You busted her balls and that was the last thing she needed’
I heard someone say in a dream. Revenge is dished out like desert filled with bacteria
that eats holes in your liver and works it way slowly to the heart. May-be this, may-
that, may-be, may-be, may-be not. You don’t even know me and you left me feeling not good
enough, not acceptable enough as a person. So come on grim reaper, why do you make me
wait.
By
White Trash
Copyright © Donna Ferguson | Year Posted 2005
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