Sense Sonnet - Acher

 He Would Not Listen to Me

I raised him up, my pride and joy,

Hoping he'd become a good man.

He was determined, still a boy,

To do his own and not my plan.

And so he practiced night and day

To be the best at it he could.

And often to me he would say,

"I'm better at it than just good."

Then came the time he chose to leave,

Assuring me he'd be all right.

And nothing I could do but grieve,

Knowing that he would lose the fight.

Too many a boy draws his gun,

Too many a Ma mourns her son.