His childhood
Wasn’t like most boy’s
He was surrounded
By constant yelling
And constant noise
His mom said she hated him
His dad proved he hated him
Never kissed
And never hugged
Never missed
And never loved
Now he’s a teen
And has nightmares
Of the things he’s seen
From the lack of hugs
He resorted to drugs
Sick of his life
With its endless
Struggle and strife
No one was ever there
To squeezed him tight
Tuck him in
And say goodnight
That’s why this gun
Is on his left temple
And it’s pointing right