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.