Too Much Luuving
A poem by Zona Moore, Moree, New South Wales
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You tell me that you love me, while you punch me in the face You tell me that I'm beautiful but, I'll fall down in disgrace I know that you don't mean it, I know deep down you care I shudder in the morning when I reach and you're not there. You're outside sucking on the bong, you think it's so cool It doesn't do you justice, you're just another fool Who dreams about the good times, replace it with the bad The kids are always asking "Mum where is Dad?" "Well he's around here somewhere, possibly in the shed" He could be lying bent and broken, possibly even dead But he's my rock of ages, he's my very soul Someone to turn to when I'm growing old. I know I'll never leave him, he makes me feel luuved He even makes me wash my face when he sees the blood That's running from my broken nose, dripping on the floor If I keep on nagging, I know I'll get some more. Love punches in the head, an elbow in the chest I know he doesn't mean it, he just needs to rest To lie his weary head down so he can be at peace I hear someone knocking, could it be the police? To take him to a restful place, where three squares will see him right So my little children, will sleep in peace tonight. 
Homework: Reflect on the poem
- How do you commonly call what Zone describes in her poem?
- What is 'bong'?
- Why do you think she sticks with her husband after all he's done to her?