When I was learning the intricacies of the periodic table,
My father came home and slapped my mother,
I lost all my ability to form sentences and in the background blared the cable.
Picking up her pieces, my mother left for some avenue another.
The monster continued it's assault on the two little ones.
Ah, those days when the skipping rope had inventive purposes.
Looking him in the eye, spat in his eye the two sons.
Leaving behind the nonage scattered in shredded pieces,
My resolve to grow up could not be any stronger.
Still the playfulness catches my heart from the days yonder.