A Short Poem about Identity.

Inspiration.

We all have our burdens to bear.

The sentiment has gone.

The innocence of childhood.

Just the other night I opted to punch the wall rather than my 18 year old son, during an argument. Normally, my fist goes right through the plaster, but this time I hit a stud. ouch!

The title says it all.

Disaster strikes when Satan shakes his fist.

This is a poem that I thought of just a while I was typing these other poems I have. Tell your friends and family. Share my articles to all your social networks Thank you and send me some feedback good or bad.

Poetry.