The drama of the disagreeable diva

She sits there; haughty as hell, hating humankind.

Or is it just me that irritates her? I wonder why

she insists on being rude, making the rules as she sees fit.

To call me disgusting, is despicable, defamatory and derogatory.

What shall I do? Do I act as if it’s okay to

describe me as an object of disgust?

To reduce me to a state of anxiety and distress?

Is this all part of a day’s work? I think not.

Routes to resolving another’s anger is beyond me; a power

greater than myself must address this abysmal behaviour,

and tackle this problem, which is fast becoming a

stumbling block for any person who resists her ‘charm’.

Heart beating loudly, and chest tight-tears

abounding instead of anger; feeling so foolish-

remembering the playground bullies, realising that

this won’t disappear, unless faced head on.