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
like his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer.
I was looking for a clue.
So I turned around and
smacked the shit out of him.
Like his mother used to do.


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