eyes flashing
heart pounding
little foot stamping firmly on the ground
a whirlwind
a furious tornado destroying her small world fingers gripping and yanking
popping and catapulting the doll’s head
clutching the decapitated body to her chest
a ruined toy
bottom lip quivering
eyes brimming and overflowing
words sobbing
“You aren’t the boss of me!”
a bundle of frustration against boundaries
two-year-old temper tantrums
expected and accepted
at twenty-one
a ruined life
pouting lips twist with disdain
defiant words ring with desperation
a demand of attention and love
from a soul contemptuous of compassion
from a heart spoiled and rotting
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