samuel nze - Quarrel

Born bastard,
Beast of no nation, gender or tribe;
Bad business,
Such were the slurs
That fell from
Her quarrelsome mouth.
She was hitting her friend
With words,
More words than she could take
But no one was crying;
Breasts heaved,
Mouths spat,
Hatred spewed this way and that
Until at last
She stopped and dropped
And began to cry;
She also said
I am sorry.

samuel nze

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quarrel-2/