January 4, 2008
I know children make mistakes,
But I never thought I was that bad.
She was always yelling.
She was always mad.
I think it was the booze that drove her to hate me.
It was like a roll of thunder every time I made the slightest mistake.
As I sat in my room
I felt the walls begin to swallow me whole.
Now I lay in total silence,
And I hear the drunken women visiting my grave.

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