Daddy holding his gun,
My sorrowful sceaming and crying,
Blood, spit, sweat mixed with the mud,
There will be no more denying.
Mother, mother, oh mother,
Daddy went insane,
I'm no longer a child of summer,
I won't be celebrating with champagne.
When the rooster announces a new day,
I no longer will be among the working,
I won't be sacrificed in May,
I won't serve the man, which is hurting.
YOU ARE READING
Sanity Sanity
Poetrycollection of poems of a too young person to be dealing with this kind of things
