I beg, I plead, and I cry I scream,
But in my room only I hear my echoes,
Beating hits fall like pounding daggers,
I struggle, I kick, I slap, and I bite.
My fighting dose nothing,
My struggling seems to give the striker a smile
I wiggle, I pull, I push, and I shove,
I’m so little it like fighting a giant,
Whoever knew my parents hands could be so painful.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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u should turn painful to viloent i would ryme more but besides that this poem is good it shows how a child feels
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I wasnt trying to be perfect, just wanted to make a point, thanks for your comment.
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