I thought I was a hard-ass bitch.
But I was really just a big, soft, white marshmallow
Melting into a pile of cream at the first signs of fire.

A hard-ass bitch is cold.
Stone and steel.

No crying when the war is won.
No crying when the day is done.
She cleans her knife and sharpens the blade for the next bloody morning.

So, no.
I’m not a hard-ass bitch.
I’m just a cranky piece of fluff–
All bark and no bite.

I mean, I’m mean.
I spit.
I kick.
I scream.
I duck and stick.
I fight dirty and I punch you in the gut, ribs, kidneys, moneymaker, babymaker, heart.

Am I wrong?

A hard-ass bitch cleans up the mess, scorched-earth insurance policy.
She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t change a thing.
The difference between me and a hard-ass bitch?

I exist.
I resist.
I persist.
Or I grab and twist. (LOL)


One thought on “Difference

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