Here's a little scribble I wrote a little while ago, and I don't know why, but I like it. Most of you probably won't like it, because everything I don't like people like and everything I do like, people don't like... that's how I roll.
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(Couldn't think of a good name other than "Children")
In January you pelted me,
with snowballs.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In February you pulled me,
by my hair.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In March you broke my
favorite kite.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In April you pushed me,
into the puddle.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In May you killed my
butterfly.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In June you put mud in my
shoes.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In July you broke my
sandcastle.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In August you pushed me
off the swings.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In September you broke my
crayons.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In October you sat on my
pumpkin.
I cried and ran.
And your mother made you
say sorry.
In November I broke your cars.
I ripped your drawings.
And I told you your red hair
was ugly.
In December you broke my doll.
I broke your dinosaur.
We killed each others teddy bears.
And we never told each other
sorry.
