Poetry: That Bitch

"Heel toe, heel toe"
The bitch wails from across the narrow hallway 
She digs her five inch nails, into the heel of my hooves as she creeps up behind me 
She has obscure notion that I'm putting on a facade of a burden drunken teenager
She places a thick novel on the roof of my hair engrossed skull 
"Back erect young lady!" she demands
Impolitely, of course 
I tap the tips of my fingers on my upper thigh 
As I hear the melody of the leaking ceiling from the rain pounding onto the kitchen sink from the moldy deteriorated fixtures
"Stop your perpetual mind numbing behavior" that bitch yells at me again 
Like the German guard, protecting the flame engulfed chamber, she stands ridgely 
With her mind clouded with judgment conceived from aesthetic appearance 
Dark skin
Hair of ashes
Powder stained gums
Blood varnished lips
Constantly pondering my existence 
It's not vital for her to enrich her soul, so why must she pry? 
Palms bruised with the whip of a ruler, like horizontal strips that take over my fist 
Decorated with gold rings in hopes of concealing the pain, 
But the gold doesn't permit me from quenching my thirst of the acceptance of this woman, this guard, with her ruler of steel, her infinite amount of pages novel, and an endless amount of discretion.