Reddened and bruised, he felt.
The hands of the violent that he will never forget.
“You never do good, son!” he heard,
followed by a hit that burned.
The hands of the violent that he will never forget.
“They will never do it again,” he thought,
while dressing the wound he got.
“They did it again”, he said,
crying as he lay on the bed.
The hands of the violent that he will never forget.
Time flies and he grew just fine, but
the hands of the violent that he will never forget
still lingers through his mind.
Reddened and bruised, he heals.
promising to himself that he will always be kind.
“You did great, my son!” he said,
followed by a gentle pat on his son’s head.
This is where it ends.
He smiled and looked above,
the hands of the violent that he will never have.
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