The Kill Poem by lissa pullen
The Kill
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
Friday, July 24, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: kids
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8/13/2026 8:52:20 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
