An angry mother left behind,
Cruel, unstable, and unkind,
She tells her children not to give
To their FATHER who has no right to live.
The battles waged, it never ends,
The fantasy, to part as friends,
To her it is a question of survival,
Death was then my only rival.
My victory, a clean kept house,
No cockroaches, not one mouse;
Her victory, the telephone
To remind them all, she is alone.
So marry well when you mate,
Half the time it ends in hate,
To marry is to set a course;
Happily married, happily divorced!
I like this one. You tell it like it is. Sadly, very often, that's just how it is.
It's a nice thing to be married, but it's terrible sad to end in divorced!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How sad it is that children are, sometimes, the casualties of this kind of fracture, divorce, by it's very nature, precludes real friendship.