FLYING words,
threating fist,
a child takes a
step back, as this
father/monster, hits
his owm kid in the
lip.
I told you to do
better, he yells,
pick up your room,
take out the trash,
get better grades,
and get rid of these
fagget toys.
THE negotiator steps
in, plants a stop sign
on her sons door, and
watches this man, kill
every thing made from
love, but the house, not
even one scratch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...I'm sending you a private message! OH...'his (own) ...check it out, ok? This poem is something. Says more than the words written! I like it a lot! L