The Aftermath

Free Verse

it creeps up in the aftermath of fact
face duck with hands that like to quack
the perceived white dove
is a masked artifact
and their pained-up
or paint dove
with their life 
which hides their scam
I dream up how I
can hide myself
in the green grass
with the ants
and bees 
who hang below 
the tire swing
But then I wake up
grateful as a sin
Yet their hateful,
And it's sad to see
entitlement
never leaves unripe
beings.
Yet they set their 
sights on me
As if my life
is their job
with three yes' 
on Indeed:
Sailor
Servant
Supporter.
They're older but
still need a mother
But at the same
time, manage
the mother
in the fantasy 
where I am 
the mother
I wonder
with a flip of the coin
The johnny jumper,
or the overseer?
Oh, and I can't forget
the owner
But none
of them
motherfuckers
is getting— 
my number.