"You're Not the Boss of Me!"

 

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   

 Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman