Baby crying late at night
Hungry maybe takes the bite
Mother's tortured soul
Lost in final goal
Baby pacified goes to sleep
Father disturbed what a creep
Alcohol stupor induces rage
Mother's innocence is in his range
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We aint playing if there is no game, we wont cry unless we are hurt...Abusive can be severe, better cut it before it owns our life.
In total agreement, Soul! Thank you for reading and for your insights. Greatly appreciated! !