Mr Crabbe

How much do i hate thee?
Let me count the ways,
Though should i count, i'd
surely die, a bitter old man.

Do i care if demons take thee,
And shatter all your bones?
No less than what you deserve,
For what you did to her.

Will i weep as your pain,
Rings out through the night?
And only if its perpetually
Thy agony'd be justice served.

I'd like to scrub your smirk right off,
With the tarmac road,
I'd like to cause your wrathful eyes
To weep with bitter sorrow.

I'd like to leave you all alone,
To struggle with yourself,
To be without your mates and whores,
And die justly depressed.

I'd like you to help out for once,
And act more like a man,
And take care of your child,
By helping out his mam.

How dare you touch her caring hands,
That raised five children wonderf'lly,
And left them bruised and face drowned out,
For thirteen years, she was abused.

And all the while i stood and watched,
I was a child and so were you,
Your tantrums more terrible than mine,
Though you're forty years my senior.

But now your grip has no power,
You exert your force by other means,
You're all washed up you fucking prick,
because, in court, you'll never win.