Poem: Twenty Eight Years (Don't Ever End Up Like This)

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I don't feel angry anymore.
It's almost expected.
When I need you
it's only at your convenience.
When I talk to you,
it's just an irritation.
You have your own priorities.
Work, children, money, spouse
in that order.
I do everything that
you don't want to deal with:
child care, appointments, bills
all the things that interfere
with doing what you want.
When I'm in pain
I don't bother saying so
because life must be without
any conflict, any problems.
It's something you can't control
so it's something you can't handle.
And you wonder
why I don't smile
anymore.

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