Man Boobs
Life sucks big, black gorilla dicks
When you’re twelve years old
And you’ve somehow developed
These dangling targets that
The other boys call “man boobs”—
Especially when most of the girls at school
Are developing boobs of their own—
These captivating, itty-bitty wonders that
You can only dream about touching or tasting—
And when you’re naked in the bathroom
And you’re looking at these useless, awkward
Bulges that hang and flop from your hairless chest,
You begin to cuss your rotten parents
For every strand of their genetic garbage—
These cursed, fucking protuberances, you think—
And life sucks a few more during every
Desperate, painful round of
Adolescent discomfort,
Juvenile mockery,
And outright, open-air humiliation—
All so you can build and re-build your character—
So you’re somewhat prepared when you’re
Topless at the local swimming pool
And the chill that hits you
Freezes your tits into
Stiff pepperonis—
So the flat-chested, jackassy beefcakes can
Start grabbing and squeezing your man-chesters
And roar with wicked laughter—
Which, of course, attracts the attention of
The horrid, pimple-faced girls who also join in the fun—
Not because their boobs are any bigger or any better,
But because yours are the same size as theirs—
And because they know that you want what they have—
And you’re never gonna get ‘em