my son, he tells me things after all is out of hand, kids spit on him, call him names, whisper mean things in his innocent ears, what a good boy this young man is of mine, I cherish all he has to offer especially our time, and whoah does my heart sing the blues, to see his big brown eyes, well up... Sign in to see full entry.
Friday, July 13, 2012
my son, he tells me things after all is out of hand, kids spit on him, call him names, whisper mean things in his innocent ears, what a good boy this young man is of mine, I cherish all he has to offer especially our time, and whoah does my heart sing the blues, to see his big brown eyes, well up... Sign in to see full entry.