Author’s Note: This one is a little more fun if you read it in Tony Soprano’s voice.
I always defended my inner child
Even when change, he’d slow or shunt
I spoke to him softly, sweet and kind
Never too harsh, rude, or blunt
But his juvenile ways sabotage me
Constantly force me to fall back and punt
It’s time for him to grow the hell up
My progress, the crybaby tries to stunt
If I’m ever gonna get ahead in this world
Any luck in life, the brutal hunt
I can’t afford to have this kid in my way
His juvenile tantrums, I gotta confront
All this baby does is worry, complain
He fights reality, finds truth an affront
His childish attitudes are holding me back
I say, fuck that bratty, squawkin’ cunt
I know a guy; he paints houses, wetwork
A reliable button man to bear the brunt
He knows how to handle these things
A backdoor man; alibi and solid front
I’m sick of his shit, bellyachin’, moanin’
I gotta do it; I’m putting out a hit on the runt
I’ll murder this punk and bury his body
In a shallow grave by the waterfront
©2022 Kevin Trent Boswell

the music, poetry, and madness
of Kevin Trent Boswell