part of my poem hunting season

when i close my all that i see and hear
is the voice of my mothers sorrowful tears
and on that same spot i see the body of a vengeful deer
it's spirt like mine has seen things that define
the phrase
blood shed
the pain my heart
is just the sweet start
as you rip us apart
my soul craves
the things
that it needs
which is to see you bleed!
i shot you in head with a gun
this i swear under the birth of my first son!
i claim your life
people will remember our war even
better than the birth of criss!
and all these blank sore
makes me miss my mom more and more
so children do all your choirs for
the things in your life,and all you have lost
lossing your friends is what a small cost
for if your parents are gone and
you feel no pain
than we are the same