This Poem was Submitted By: Jon L. Herron On Date: 2001-04-23 20:02:03 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Birthright

Wicked, wicked woman why, did you give birth? Battered child, abused, unloved, stolen was his mirth. Wicked, heartless woman she gave her boy away. Strangers took him in, but they never let him play. Their care was hard and strict, he let darkness creep inside. But through all of these ordeals, he hardly even cried. Wicked, wicked woman, came to see her son. Told him lies, stole his hope, which made him turn and run. He grew up hating women, his soul had dried to dust. venom spread inside him 'till he was 'bout to bust. He entered into manhood, a dark and wretched son. Hated oozed from each pore, he surely wasn't fun. Searching 'till he found, the wicked, wicked one. He slithered into town and bought a brand new gun. Waiting for his moment, he hid beneath her bed. When she went to sleep, he shot her in the head. He looked down at her body, he never even cried, just stuck that gun into his mouth, and together, they both died.

Copyright © April 2001 Jon L. Herron


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