He's at it again
He's out for the kill
He's on the war path
He's going to hurt me
I've set him off again
I don't know what I did
It's always the little things
Like a cup on the sink
or a toy on the floor
or his tea on the tabe to early or to late
I can't take it anymore
I have to get the Kids away
Befor it's to late for me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem