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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