The Wage of Troublemaking
I stepped on his nerves
And like a dog, he got to me
Making me feel his vicious mood
Like a sweet bitten apple
That tastes the anger of the tooth
His furious mood keeps me running
Away from the vicinity
To dodge the punishment
His rapid footsteps behind me
Weakening my mind
His grunts, warning his closing up
My mind, weakening and falling apart
What would be of me?
When he puts me down
And hold my limbs in both arms
For the capital punishment
For I was once told
The wage of troublemaking is pain
Copyright © Aorabee Vyangel | Year Posted 2022
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