Blood Battlefield

Conditioned to be concealed A boy and his visage shield Anxious, scared, ashamed A loser he self-proclaimed A guardian, an angel, a mom Angelic and motherly and calm Confident, smart and charming But sometimes crazy, alarming With nine little ones you see expect some screams, insanity But in all seriousness you expect Some might encounter neglect But think not will my mom reject for she possesses much respect I'm lonely and sad and tired And this summer I got fired Mom looked at the happy side To say I liked that job I lied Last week I was in a fight Blinded by new flawed light Mom told me that the fight is life It's a rusty broken butter knife Like crazy fights with a crazy wife She joked about her earlier strife For my mom is single now But don't you raise a brow She's tough and strong and mighty With her substantial acts of piety When I look at mom I break my shield And conquer the entire battle field Because when I see my mom in battle It's her bravery that one cannot rattle I am no longer conditioned to be concealed because my mom knows to fight, not shield And that is why I love her. For she raised one brave soldier.