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This is a scheduled post planned to be published at 1365017432000 at 1365017432000
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. I didn´t perk his 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 & smacked the shit out of him, like his mother used to do. 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. I didn´t perk his 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 & smacked the shit out of him, like his mother used to do.
1365017432000 at 1365017432000

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