A couplet short of a sonnet
(we're all mad here)
Left: You’re a priest in a hardscrabble factory-town parish, listening to your brother’s son confess that he has killed a man. Center: You’re a gangsta rapper being informed by a haughty bouncer that you are not on the list. Right: You’re a six-year-old who has skinned his knee in the playground, waiting to cry until your mom gets off her cell phone.

Left: You’re a priest in a hardscrabble factory-town parish, listening to your brother’s son confess that he has killed a man.
Center: You’re a gangsta rapper being informed by a haughty bouncer that you are not on the list.
Right: You’re a six-year-old who has skinned his knee in the playground, waiting to cry until your mom gets off her cell phone.

2 years ago with 23 notes — via seaofcake, © mediadump.com