April 4, 2013 by Tiffany A. Robbins
The Lies, They Keep Comin’
My confidence abounds like the hills roll around through this flat Kansas town where my ass hit the ground.
I’m thinner than most. I never pass up a roast that could feed a whole host ’til I’m a dead ghost.
My skin is radiant with pockmarks abundant, with red oily gradient, and scars abundant.
My nerves are solid rock. My shaking knees knock. Crowds they mock my timid talk.
Of wit I have plenty. If a joke for a penny, I couldn’t make twenty. I’m no cognoscenti.