Paperounds

It was a fine day in February,
the landscape was getting less frosty,
the sky decided to turn bright,
instead unleashing it's terror at night.

A lone boy had decided to simply ditch
the very essence by which he'd become rich
He'd refused to care for his brochures and his jocks,
saying 'dude, this is bollocks'!

So he stopped to make his room, his bed
and to his mother's ever increasing dread,
he never fully finished his paperounds
that was as bad as it sounds

On a happy Wednesday night,
as to her ever all-seeing sight
she noticed that once again,
the boy had gone straight for the gain

He'd skipped a portion of his assigned task
decided to abandon it, to let it bask
so he headed for home, for nutrition,
she didn't let it happen without a lesson.

She caught up with him, reaching for the food,
explained what she thought of him, in a tempest mood
he was tired, but he saw the picture,
he finished his round within the given hour

He was heading home when he noticed glumly
that his back tyre turned not so soundlessly
he discovered that, feeling every bump in the terrace
Rational Judgement went out for breakfast

He yelled out until his throat was faltering
hungry, angry, and now as fast as global warming
he walked home, hoping she would comprehend
he'd stuffed up, beyond pretend.

He sleeped worse than he'd ever
looking at the mirror, the deeper the darker
many times he jerked into a conscious state
the things never decided to abate

The next morning, all was not well
the night had left him a hollow shell
In his much confused reasoning
he'd forgotten the monster deep within

He ran to school, confused, oblivious,
In her eyes it was mighty discourteous
one add one made three, his world upside down
the hunger would wait until he was sound

His day was strangely sorted in stages
it never left him, red on his pages
friendship became priceless
good thing it was his best

He'd focused all of his available focus,
making sure his homework wasn't bogus
he'd carefully avoided her piercing gaze
his mind desperatley lost in a haze

She'd cooked dinner, more than he'd expected
keeping silence, a wall she'd dictated
But the food! The Chicken!
It had been 30 hours since he'd last eaten

His stomach intent on digesting
he watched as his limbs regained feeling
now that his mind was like glass
he realised he'd missed another class

He wondered what to do, how to turn the tide
talking to her now would be suicide
appologies delay the fire of her heart
poems will have to do for a start

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