you cower behind closed Iron fists
and call yourself a man
but you are a scared little boy in a shell
who plays with knives and
plays pretend all day
you still havent learned
that you never hit a woman
or another person for that matter
and sharing is a foriegn concept to you
you have yet to realize that an apology
can sometimes be all the offended needs
and to you teamwork is a burden.
you are a preschooler in a middle aged man's body
wearing a wife beater that you live up to
and chugging beer like apple juice.
sometimes I wonder if your mom taught you
how to speak
or if you picked up on the language from
satan himself, because all you speak is evil.
you throw tantrums when you don't get your way
throwing things across the room
screaming at anything that breathes
and I know you're immature
and one day you'll understand how foolish you act
but for now, the most I can ask of you
is to grow up.