**another one from the dusty old box in the back of the closet**
Pitch ’em high
Forget the quest
And raise a scream from baby.
Tease, squeeze, starve and pinch
to raise a scream from baby
Trash the toy with all your might
and raise that hellish tone –
Noone knows he’s not your kin
So make that brat screech, wail, and moan.
This poem that I pulled out of the dusty old box from 1988 was a piece of fiction written by a FEARLESS and INSPIRED young person with a wicked sense of humor. When I read this again last night I screamed in laughter remembering writing this – and it still is me and my writing. I love the rhythm and the choice of words. The message was just flip designed to make people wonder.
It was in a packet of writings turned in to my creative writing professor and at the last minute I crossed out the page – even cautious of judgment at that time it appears. But I only crossed it out and did not remove it from the packet….
Perhaps, time to look it up?
I was a psych major after all. Pretty sure I knew what I was doing.
Facing fears 101.