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Robbie Potter has not received any gifts yet
Tuned to a frequency,
My day is followed by screams.
I hear them every waking second,
And even in my dreams.
My perspective is a receiver,
The radio of another's pain,
The dial I cannot turn off,
Tears they come like rain.
For those who have no radio,
No knowledge or no care.
Induced the screams of murder,
With a look so laissez faire.
Every single restuarant one passes,
When your family are immoral,
Where does your loyalty lie?
Is it with the blood that's yours,
Or that's spilt and left to dry?
For indeed the crimson cries,
Are multiples of what's my own.
Then ponder my so stance,
To condemn rather than condone.
For the guilty have no defence,
But that they do not care.
To dare to call such horror evil,
Is deemed to be unfair.
For in a family the…Continue