Do you like it when he screams?
Does it make you love him more?
In the morning, how calm he seems . . .
He’s stuck in the night before.
He has band-aids at the ready.
Friends say he’s a clumsy kid.
He doesn’t talk about his daddy;
Only lies about what he did.
He finds refuge in his pillow;
He pulls his legs up to his chest.
He tries to imagine tomorrow
Without bruises or distress.
Do you like it when he cries?
Do his eyes look like his mother’s?
In the morning, he won’t ask why . . .
He tidies the house up for his father.
He has smiles at the ready,
Even though his jaw aches.
His legs are weak, but he walks steady;
No one hears the tiny heart break.
He finds refuge in the new day;
One step closer to Heaven.
His dreams whisk him away
Where it’s beautiful to be broken.
This won’t last for long;
The clouds are moving on.
He won’t take a punch this time . . .
He knows where to draw his line.
. . .”Do you like it when I scream?
Will it make her see any different?
If I cry, do my eyes seem
Less like hers, less potent?
“One day, your throat will dry
With the sandpaper in your lungs.
Abrasive words may get you high,
But they’ll burn up your tongue.
“We left you roses; you left us scars.
You called them hand-made violets.
I won’t be the way you are;
Just watch me bury the hatchet.
I know I have my patient star,
And I have my time to reach it.
It’ll turn your violets white;
You won’t paint my skin with spite.”
Rather, I think you should make rhyme work for the poem -- if the line isn't working out, see what you can rearrange. If it doesn't work again, see where you can change something. 
