Today, mom told me we were moving
first through angry screams in a telephone,
then placidly, the anger under-skinned
as the plastic slipped her hands.
I felt the familiar cringe to mend
the knowledge pop's a stable man
who's held us up when we didn't have money.
"Where do you want to move, Payt?
I don't do anything right, Payt. ('I'm right.')
What do I do, Payt? What do I do!?"
I need a friend
I need a comforting person
I need a heart-half,
maybe a Schultz-hero
someone, though, please
don't make me go home
after school today,
do not make me play
the diplomatic board again...
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