Wilma's House.

Everything was a faded brown. 
It all smelled strongly of cigarettes and dog shampoo. 
No one can hear you. You're just a show pony.
Who's the president? What's your address? 
What's the answer to this math problem?
History question? Science? 
Draw for us. Dance for us. Sing for us.
Your mother is a whore.
Why do you like this stupid thing?
Go give them a hug, now!
But that's not even my real grandpa.
We don't care, you still need to kiss him.
Tell him you love him.
A pointy, painful mustache.
It smells like beer.
My lips are barely four years old.
I don't want to kiss him.
You have to.
It can't read numbers, it must be stupid.
It doesn't like golf or cars.
It's supposed to be a boy.
It's smarter than everyone else.
It's better than everyone else.
Bring it everything it asks for.
She can have anything she wants.
She's going to fix this family.
She's going to make us all famous.
Why can't it act right?
Why is it so weird?
Why is it doing that?
I don't remember the violence.
Hide under the bed.
Hide in the closet.
Disapear in the TV.
Look at the street lights.
Make sure her bow matches her dress.
Make sure she stays clean.
Make sure she looks cute.
Curls in her hair.
Lace on her socks.
Why does she smell like dog?
Why does she smell like cigarettes?
Why does she smell like beer?
Why has she been outside?
Where are her ribbons?
Where is her lace?
Did you kiss your grandpa goodbye?
That's not even my grandpa.
His mustache hurts.
His breath smells like beer.
Stop making me kiss him.
No. You have to. Kiss him, now.
It's going to fix my marriage.
It's going to make my husband love me.
It's going to make my wife act right.
It's going to accomplish all the things we didn't get to.
It's just like it's grandmother.
It's just like it's Aunt.
It's just like it's Father.
It's just like it's Mother.
Your father is a saint.
Your mother is a whore.
Your father is a monster.
Your mother is an angel.
Did you dance enough?
Did you sing enough?
Did you answer all their questions?
Did you prove your worth?
Did you love them, like I told you to?
Did you hate them, like I told you to?
Why can't you do anything right?
Just look at the moths.
Keep watching the street lights.

a "Scapegoat Child."

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