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.
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.
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