Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Each smack
Is like pay back.
Each time that hands meets,
She greets defeat.

She flinched back when it's raised;
But inside she feels as if praised.
She knows not to feel 
But she can't help but kneel.

She knows it is coming.
She hears it bubbling,
Till it bubbles up
In that giant cup.

It's not ok to spill
Even when it's really fill.
I guess it is a fact
It really is pay back.