The weather became cruel With a mile yet to walk
The boy ran for cover
He huddled in a small shed
His heart was all a flutter The wind blew hard, the rain teemed down
Mixing with the tears from the small boy
The weather reminded him of his father
Angry, mad never showing joy Crumpled in the boys hand
Was his mid-term report card
Two B’s, three C’s and an F
He would get a blasting that was cold and hard He tried so hard to please his father
He just didn’t have what it took
For his father to believe in him
Never had he had a pleasing look “I am what I am”
So why should it be
That my father cannot love, and be proud
Accepting of all of me “Crack!” the lightening shouted loud
Outside of the tiny shed
Oh how the boy wished
He was at home in his bed So many times he had tried
To reason with his Dad
“I am what I am,” he would say
A hard “Smack!” The answer to the lad He had tried several times
To end his youthful meaning
What would his father do if he knew that?
Probably another beating A say