muscles strained from;
too hard workouts after too long away from the gym,
walking in too high heels for too damn long on a too January afternoon,
and two short children with two hands each grabbing closer and closer to
their Mommy's no-no zone.
Each of the little brats, which you refuse
to take care of, lest take them to work one morning so I can get
some bloody rest,
is asking if they can return home.
Hell, I'll take them home,
I'd shove them so far up some other unlucky woman's
no-no zone and pray to whatever the fuck there is
left to pray to
that they weren't mine,
that I didn't have to look after
something that I never wanted at all,
but I am now stuck with
for the next twelve years... at least.
And that unlucky woman can have sore thighs from;
not working out every day,
wearing the most painful shoes known to humanity just to feel pretty for one second of her horrible day,
the spawn she produced hanging on to her every second.
Whereas, my sore thighs will only be from
too much sex that is too good from too many people,
too many cocks in Mommy's no-no zone, with their owner's
two hands spreading, grabbing, making Mommy scream;
something she hasn't done for any reason other than punishment in
two years. Too damn long, if you ask me.
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