A Muddled Plan

He lays upon his bed,
looking depressed,
banging his head.
Looking up at the posters up on his ceiling,
getting into a really intense feeling.
He stares too at the walls of his room,
his conscience will be his own doom.
And starts to feel sad,
for letting himself get mad.
He punched up on his brother,
and kicked around his sister,
out in the public's eyes,
and a nearby child said, "Mister?".
Away he went and started crying,
unable to feel anything but his soul dying.
Now here he is, grounded to his room,
his soul filled with eternal gloom.
Why did he beat them,you say?
In his opinion, they had ruined his good day.
He was going to go his friends house to hang out,
that was what his life was mainly about.
His mother said he must take them too,
and then he got mad and his feeling turned blue.
What was the big deal, you might ask?
He would've drunk from his friend's dad's flask.
A sip of whiskey, and a sip Bud,
They planned also to drive, they'd slip in mud.
Would it have been better for him to take them?
Or would it not?
Beating wasn't the answer, but I must say,
I'd rather take a beating than jail any day!
For he was not yet eighteen, neither were they!