The bad son
Faces his penance
Each day these words
Go unwritten
As desperate attempts
Soon defeat him
With no confidence gained
Pulling back –

An image unclear
In that head
When verbally lashed
If unleashing
This imperfect phrase
Being honest
Like a punk rock tune
Lived out loud

For one period
Briefer than songs
Where notes like screams
Serve it better
Than nastier lines
Sparking lyrics
Spoken by those
Claiming love,

Knowing full well
Secrecy sucks
Since expression
Brings harsher opinions
While suppressing
Such deeper conclusions
Surmised from greed
All around.

He’s barely enough
Though they claim
Those failing dreams
Stay respected
Since sadness feigns
Bitter triumph
Or ignoring
How eyes never see

What strength
Hides childhood tears
And fake boldness
Begs their forgiveness
As rebellious whims
Go unnoticed
Until growing too old
For that shit.

• J. Pigno