Mother Charlotte’s Poison Pen to her Daughter

Dear Daughter,
You got shoes and jewels
for what?

I told your idiot Father
not to let you
go to radical college
to major in
socialism and boyfriends

You’re not liberating:
you’re looting.

Your brother is
dead in Afghanistan. Suppose
he’d want you to have
well heeled shoes to walk in.

Why don’t you
steal something for me —

Yes, please,
go anarchy shopping
at the liquor store

Darling daughter,
why don’t you
rip out my liver, and
fry it in onions with
liberation olive oil

Your idiot Father
let me open my Boutique
and now your comrades
have burnt it to the ground

I’m glad for you
that your professor
gave you an A+ grade

Onward to paradise,
and take my heart.

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