A Father's Plea (Poem)

A Father’s Plea 
You’ll have to excuse my son 
For he is a brash, greedy ass 
That hes not yet learned to plow 
At least not yet the pains 
Or suffering of the plow 
He is flashy, decadent 
He loves to terrify and probe 
He has no cunning 
For he has not seen 
The backside of his quarells 
He loves pie 
Not radii 
He loves power 
Not women 
 He loves darkness as he should 
 For the sun shall slowly melt him 

 By: Matthew C Wattles

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