"You are not the father..."
I raised this child like he was my own, now I find out he isn't my son.
I want you to get outta my home, better hurry up, go and run.
I never want to hear your ringtone, don't want you to enjoy your fun.
Don't you hit me up on the phone, see you in court in a few months.
I really thought of him as my own, I loved my son.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
