Don't slam the door, boy, when you leave.
   You made your bed with that worthless *****
   and you'll both end in hell's kitchen weeping
   for your unholy child born within deep sins
   of forbidden flesh and lust's laughter. Look
   out for fire. I pray for your souls always.

   We lived with our love and sweet daughter.
   We had a son soon after. Like rabbits.
   Years later you are all dead. Life moves on
   and as I near the grave I slam every door I
   can and give my blessing to every **** thing
   that lives outside the lines. They matter most.