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Petrarchan Sonnet

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She bore a son. A rapist lives next door.
All the prisons are packed; The streets not clear.
Let me pour some knowledge onto you dear.
Pigs rather take a suicidal whore
Or a kind youngster living life hardcore.
What I meant earlier is what I fear.
It's not too far more like right in our ear.
His cry in our ear; his face on the floor.
They say they serve justice but they abuse.
Why would they rather lock up a weed head
Instead of taking away taht rapist?
Go on. Tell me. Your words won't spark a fuse.
You should have just listened to that weed head.
He had an addiction. Help him face it.



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