Some Poetry

My son,

A ratbag snivelling little runt,

He can’t help putting his nose everywhere,

So many times they called,


My son,

Wicked troubling modest evil,

Why does he do all the bad things,

Why every single time,


My son,

Single daring mutant loner,

He couldn’t help himself no matter what,

I had to do something,


My son,

Sad misunderstood colossal selfish,

The window cracked…

I cracked…

One single-minded determination swallowed me,

It hit him,


My son,

Sharp-tongued witty weird disturbed,

They came with flashing lights and blue clothes,

He lied,

I lied,

He deserved justice…


It hit him


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It’s Time for Change

Warning: The topic of this post is very heavily debated, and some may be offended. Reader’s discretion is advised. Hello, and welcome to another Benaball blog post. Sit back, get some snacks. This will be…

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