Pent up rage
Spitting as he curses
What ever is close
Is destroyed

He is chaos personified
Testosterone screams
And he digs deep
To spray his wicked hate

The world is to blame
For his angst
His eyes, so shallow
To his own actions

It hurts
But I allow it to pass
As he is 15
And his words are not his

He screamed at me
And advised me
Never to call him my son
For the things I've done

He must be destroyed
To be rebuilt
He must find himself
In the blood he has spilt

I fight tears and fear
In seeing him in such a state
He is my son, my boy
My 15 year old mate