A Woman's Poem
He didn't like the casserole,
And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right,
He didn't like the stew.
I didn't mend his socks,
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer,
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked the shit out of him...
Like his mother used to do.
