My friend doesn't like her poem she wrote for class, what do you think about it?

You come to me With grief stricken eyes About to boil over with tears You have your arms crossed Scared of being touched by anyone anymore But no one else sees this. Because that’s not how you look on the outside. No. You look strong, carefree, like a normal teenage boy, right? Huh. Who’s a normal teenager? But you, I see those bruises on your arm you keep yanking your sleeve over
I see you wince when someone pokes you in the ribs. I know there’s an eight inch long welp from where that belt left his leather plastered in your skin like a branding

Boy, don’t hide your voice from me. I can already hear the resentment and fear when you speak of your father.
Boy, I know he did this to you. Listen hear, don’t let him beat you to believe that this is discipline. Don’t let his knuckles mold you to into him and pass the torch so that you too can “control” your child. Look, i know that you know this is wrong and you know that I know how you feel. And you know I’m here for you, boy. You know you don’t have to hide those tears because I’ll wipe them away. I’ll bandage you up with my words and give you a shield of hope because I know that you know it won’t always be like this and that you know that love does exist in this world even though sometimes you have to endure this pain just to find it. Boy, listen to me. LISTEN TO ME. I know you know you’re stronger than him. And while you may share the same nose you don’t share the same heart. So boy, I know that as soon as you scoot from under his boot that he’ll go crashing to the ground and you’ll be looking all around at the view of the new you.