Nice Poem By A Tired Woman
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.
—-The End—–