A Woman's Poem


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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 and
smacked the shit out of him...

 
Like his mother used to do.

 


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