Note to Crazymakers Don’t slap my face, Then blame me for flinching. Don’t whisper about me With a voice so convincing. Don’t tell me you love me, Then treat me like dirt. I no longer respond to Your words meant to hurt. I’m putting up fences Made with barbed wire, Protecting my heart From your friendly fire. So aim your mad love In a different direction. This bank is tapped out For coerced affection. Crystal Bowman 10/18/2009