Back From Class
By birksy
The boy waits at the gate, back now from music class, or football practice, or just about anything that makes him stay out longer. The lights are on, his caring parents are home, what makes them so different, why do his friends say the words they do? He could never tell them what the others think, how they call his Dad a madman, his mother a witch. So they're not like the others, he gulps down the tears, he's stronger than cruel words, he loves his folks. Written January 9th, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 07:22 AM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 8
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"The boy waits at the gate,..."