Since the fourth of July is coming up, here is a poem...

-

i can't decide when to cry.

should i do it now when my house

is silent or do i keep it pent up

like a firecracker stuck inside

of a barbie's head on the fourth of july.

we used to do that together. Blowing up dolls

till a parent found us in the road.

I can't decide if it's better to turn

my eye sockets into personal fountains

which can efficiently pour out my misery,

or to become a naked plastic barbie doll

with dog bites covering its surface,

and burst into burning, fragmented pieces.

- 

You can probably figure out when I wrote this.