Ode to Joy

Little voice 

Tiny hands 

Big demands 

Perfecting pleases 

Tis the season

My heart - can’t take

But make no mistake

My soul eats it right up.

Kissing Daddy’s head  

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Blanket, soft side, in bed

Hot tea

Good book

Pills - took 

Me, look 

Sunlight, moonlit 

Waxing poetic 

There I said it 

So what you read it

Cringe rinse repeat, 

It’s sadistic that

With this kind of humiliation, public

I keep saying fuck it -

Joy wasn’t meant to be discreet.