The loss of innocence in a child’s face, fallen from a mother’s loving grace.
Into the world, he dared to venture with words she couldn’t censor.
A child once so caring and quiet; he had grown into a young man wanting to riot.
With a bat tucked away from her view, it was harm he wanted to pursue.
Confront the child, the courts had the nerve; but there was no jail time he had to serve.
He kept steadfast on this perilous path, not realizing it could one day lead to his death.
A grieving mother stands alone, wondering how she could do it on her own.
A child she had little help to raise no longer gave her praise.
Words between them were now of anger and contemplate; she represented everything he
wanted to hate.
With his father, he wanted to live for the freedom he promised to give.
There were no curfews; no rules, to say the very least. These were, of course, the very things
to entice this selfish little beast.
Living with dad, as it’s been said, was this child’s only dream. Or so it seemed.
For, over time, the boy had grown wise. He began to see through the lies
And see the man for who and what he truly was. There was no longer trust.
So, back with the mother, the child did go; given one more chance he couldn’t blow.
He was given a warning; there’d be no more bargaining.
He would be facing time if he didn’t walk the line.
It wouldn’t be any short-term stay; he would be sent away
But he was still a child, fourteen and wild.
He lost control; he lost his soul
On choices I hope he soon regrets.