Born out of wedlock, <br />with a chip on his shoulder, <br />one that was as big, <br />as a cliff face, boulder. <br />From the age of seven <br />he was in constant trouble. <br />Then as he grew up, <br />His parents worries, <br />were set to double. <br />Police at the door, <br />both night and day <br />and sometimes they came, <br />and took the lad away. <br />Drink and drugs, <br />were always on the card <br />of this teenage lad, <br />who's parents worked hard. <br />Up in front of the Beak! <br />and sentenced to a year, <br />this wayward lad, <br />showed no remorse or fear. <br />So on he went, with a record <br />one that was now at hand, <br />spending more time than ever, <br />locked up, in the 'Hotel Grand! <br />At the age of forty, <br />and still no life sorted. <br />Wife and family, <br />now totally aborted.<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wayward-life/
