another poem...

Rough around the edges but with a good heart
He knows how to play but he knows to stay smart
Tries to listen to his mom cause to ignore her would be stupid
And he aint stupid yo
He knows what's what and he knows how it go
All he wants is redemption and a therapist's absolution
But how can he be cleansed when he won't admit to the problem?
He knows little kids can't be blamed, but he remembered getting the warning
So he tries to convince himself it's all good
Because to say otherwise would be to incriminate his blood
And to open a Pandora's box made of bitter wood
So he longs for a shrink's couch and his soul to bare
Or maybe the confessional with its closed off chair
He can't tell anyone
He can't escape his burden
And why, oh why, so many times
Didn't he just heed the words of his mom?