The Nasty Child

I’m angry today and I’m likely to shout,
So hope when I do that you are not about.
For when I’m annoyed,
I’m not gentle or kind.
In fact I’m quite horrid as well you will find.
I have a fierce temper,
I banter and cuss.
I poke out my tongue and I shock the whole house.
I don’t think you’d like me when I’m in a rage.
I’m really quite mean for a boy of my age.

You won’t hear a thank you. I won’t wash my face.
I like to be dirty when I’m in disgrace.
I turn over tables,
I leave out my clothes.
I waggle my hands on the end of my nose.
I won’t get up early,
I won’t brush my hair,
And when lunch is ready I will not be there.
But then I’ll arrive and be so full of hate,
I’ll burp with each mouthful and scrape at my plate.

That’s when I am told I should go to my room,
And I’ll leave the table surrounded by gloom.
I’ll stamp up the stairs,
Loudly slamming the door.
Oh how many times has this happened before?
I’ll lie on my bed,
Trying hard not to cry.
If nobody loves me,
I might as well die.
I’d like to say sorry,
But cannot at all,
Oh life’s really difficult when you are small.