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.
Copyright © Chad Obrien | Year Posted 2015
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