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Violence April Poems | Violence Poems About April
These Violence April poems are examples of Violence poems about April. These are the best examples of Violence April poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order
Copyright © chriss todd | Year Posted 2013
Swearing runs in the dysfunctional family,
the loud mother gets angry at her kids
and flings some items at them with animosity;
they listen and learn from her curse words.
It's a thrill to hang out with their friends,
it's easier to fit in when nasty words
are spewen out with rageful obscenity
and bullying others, they feel superiority.
If the disgusting language of rebellious teens
didn't offend or intimidate, it would fail them
in their expectations of being defiant thugs;
had they some morals, they would be a gem.
It's nighttime, the April air is very mild;
they binge and break bottles on trees,
their behavior becomes incredibly wild...
there's a fight, one of the boys bleeds.
Angie the mother of Brenda comes to his aid,
then slaps her daughter with fury in her lungs,
" It's past midnight, you should be in bed,
not hang out with a bunch of smelly drunks! "
Written on 5/19/2017
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017