Fuming And Fussing

I saw her fuming and fussing While arguing and cussing, With her voice at a higher than normal pitch No wonder they call her a hateful bitch. Her arms they were flailing about As she continued to scream and shout, Her arms then became more animated As she stood there and debated. I then slunk in the corner just to hide With my crucifix hanging down at my side, While hoping that I was out of her sight Staying away from her verbatim and might. I then thought who would her next victim be As I looked about the room, would it be he, she or me, She continued her screaming and her mocking A poor soul she was attacking and stalking. While her voice continued escalating My self esteem and pride began debating, My mighty hands once wore gloves and dished out fears Now they were filled with my vey own tears. She then looked about the now nearly empty room Then upon my soul her eyes did quickly zoom, When she finished with her verbal emission I was in the corner lying in a fetal position. Randy L. McClave