No concept of wrongness

A baseball bat
So pitiless
So heartless
Not a thought
No concept of forgiving
Or living just the sport
Of killing
So intolerant
Relentless to a tee
His vacant eyes
His woeful size
Morose misanthropy

Spiteful child
Toward the wild
Soul beseechingly
Wanting just to run away
His vixen just to see
She, with the worst intentions
Bad blood
Let us say
Here to kill his spirit
With her bat
To Cast away
To watch him bleed
To hear him weep
And that would make her day

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

HTML tags are not allowed.