Flat Stomach
"Piece of *****".
When I was eight, I think you forced yourself into my home, my safe space- a blue truck
pulled up to the front of my mother's, and father's house, a dad with a dark beard was sitting behind the
steering wheel, a dark haired child sat in the passenger seat- I think
I was trying to identify you, I know you had an ugly-eyes too close together-almost stupid, dirty face, and
that you were telling me you did not want to go back to South America. I was as always being nice to you, and
I was so much taller than you, and I was asking what you wanted to play-
I was assuming you
wanted to play-
and then you punched me in my stomach.
I guess you had wanted to abuse, that my hygiene was not being addressed properly by my mother-as intended by her mother- and I
shouldn't have been in the bathroom with you- you are male,
short, my blonde was coveted by my relatives so it was oiled to look
straight and dark-so close to the toilet with you that you could violently push my should- be-blonde head into the toilet, and then I shouldn't
have thought to still talk to you, think to go outside with you while you were only leaving my mother's, and father's house-shouldn't have still
thought that you wanted to play...
but my stomach was washboard flat. And my should be curly blonde hair was going to be very beautiful.
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