(This is a fictional poem)

My son makes Dennis the Menace look like Opie Taylor.
He has the manners of a tyrant and the mouth of a sailor.
He's only eight years old and he uses the F word.
He cusses me out and then he gives me the bird.
I ask him to stop cussing but he says hell no.
That's the last time that I'll let him watch HBO.
He cussed out his principal who happens to be deaf.
I'm glad he can't hear because my son called him an MF.
He circumcised me with my pocket knife and my wiener sure is sore.
Somebody please shoot me so I won't have to take his crap anymore.