What's the Matter Here?

That Young Boy Without a Name I'd Know His Face. In

This City the Kid's My Favorite. I've Seen Him. I See Him Every

Day. Seen Him Run Outside Looking For a Place to Hide From His

Father, the Kid Half Naked and Said to Myself "O, What's The

Matter Here?" I'm Tired of the Excuses Everbody Uses, He's Their

Kid I Stay Out of It, But Who Gave You the Right to Do This?

We Live On Morgan Street; Just Ten Feet Between and His

Mother, I Never See Her, But Her Screams and Cussing, I Hear Them

Every Day. Threats Like: "If You Don't Mind I Will Beat On Your

Behind,""slap You, Slap You Silly." Made Me Say, "O, What's The

Matter Here?" I'm Tired of the Excuses Everybody Uses, He's Your

Kid, Do As You See Fit, But Get This Through That I Don't Approve

of What You Did to You Own Flesh and Blood.

"If You Don't Sit On This Chair Straight I'll Take This

Belt From Around My Waist and Don't Think That I Won't Use It!"

Answer Me and Take Your Time, What Could Be the Awful

Crime He Could Do At Such Young An Age? If I'm the Only Witness

to Your Madness Offer Me Some Words to Balance Out What I See And

What I Hear. All These Cold and Rude Things That You Do I Suppose

You Do Because He Belongs to You and Instead of Love, the Feel Of

Warmth You've Given Him These Cuts and Sores Won't Heal With Time

Or Age.

I Want to Say "What's the Matter Here?" But I Don't Dare

Say.