Mother’s pain at depraved son: A poem 

Did she know what was in store? 

Your mouth like a cat asking for more 

Education was only a bleak dawn 

Vulgar was your laughter, like porn 

You did not cringe at violence 

Vulnerability of others gave you licence 

Hate was the season of your words 

Early, you learnt of the bees and birds 

Adulthood was the wisdom of a thief 

Honesty was a line that was not even brief 

A child who became father of the misdeed 

And you made a virtue of your greed 

And in her grief, she cut a finger with a knife 

That birthing you was the mistake of her life 

For you have made everything blue 

Everything that she ever taught you