Jitters

Jitters

It’s just the jitters,
they try to explain,
but I know the reason you cry.
Your momma yells and
your daddy hits
and your big brother steals
all of your things.
It’s not unlike surgery,
the precision with which I rip
you away from them
and let you be with me.

I don’t stop you from mimicking
their behavior.
I let you scream, and I let you
steal from me, but when you
try to hit me, I’ll hold your hands,
pull you close,
and let you cry.

Author's Note

Truth. Written as a memory piece for Creative Writing.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Reviews?
They go RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT there
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