When I Enter He Is In A...

When I enter he is in a corner
Cutting off his hair.
The scissors struggles with hair and him,
And I struggle with what's plauging him,
Eye twitching restraining from slapping him.
Is this her son?
is this his fun?
After a moment
of his quiet reflection
Induced by some
of my slapping action,
he finds the strength
to describe his pain
For his
For mine
For dead mother's gain.
"I've let my plant die 
Too many times.
What kind of person kills themselves
Io satisfy created social concern?
I'm stronger than this.
Smarter than piss.
With a mind that only petty gods
Must've had the mind to kiss."
If that's the case Intelligent,
Call me when you're no longer bent.
And take that rope from round your neck.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace