A Woe to My Insignificance

I have neglected the world just to be with you.

I disobeyed my parents.

I have allowed them to curse me.

Now, I’m here.

Hearing you shout over and over again, as if the house is on fire.

If we have an argument, you always win.

If I have done something wrong, I do an immediate admitting and beg for your forgiveness.

But you, none.

You never failed to make me feel dim-witted and dry.

Stupid and brainless.

 Useless and pathetic.  

If I have to criticize you, I’m doing it lovingly.

While in your case, you degrade me, put me to shame and situate to civic scrutiny.

I never brought up the mistakes of the past.

Knowing that you’re a stripper at 16, a perfect prostitute for two beautiful years and a long been disreputable killer of one of your poor customers who wasn’t able to pay for your orgasmic service!

I love you. But you’ve been a very bad girl.

Go ahead kill a cow, and eat your own burger.  

I’m sick of being your insignificant Husband.

But before I die, you die first.



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