A Short Tenure

Seeker

His was a hatred not to be assuaged

A malice formed by mother’s twisted love

His billowed clouds of youth consumed by rage

The conflagration was like searing gloves

 

He blindly wore them; his desired revenge

A youth without restraint will channel hate

How could the boy have any other bent

He struggled fiercely seeking an escape

 

A mother’s love consoles with no revile

A cool and quiet river through a child’s hell

The hand that rears must not defile

Because of pain his anger would not quell

 

The rearing hand will leave its mark deeply

Be gentle for a child is yours briefly

 

  • Author: George (My real name) (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 17th, 2016 13:24
  • Comment from author about the poem: The couplet is not strictly iambic. The thought was such that I didn't think it should be changed.
  • Category: Children
  • Views: 30
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