By Leo Milmet
I’ve been called a liar.
A bit excessive.
A weak little weasel who has just gotta toughen up.
A cold-hearted young man with a face of stone.
A slave to my fears.
A bitter soul.
I’ve been asked “What the hell is wrong with you?” countless times.
I’ve been unfavorably compared to the accommodation-needing, annoying kid in the car who constantly asks “Are we there yet?”
I’ve been told, by well-intentioned people, “Mine is different. You wouldn’t have a problem with mine.”
All I said was,
“I’m afraid of dogs.”
Editor: Peter Kadel
Although I can’t put my finger on the exact intention of this poem,
i like reading/hearing it. It is genuinely “Leo”
I can relate every phrase to the last couplet……EXCEPT “I’ve been unfavorably compared to the accommodation-needing, annoying kid in the car who constantly asks “Are we there yet?” “