I lay downstairs in the dark, my wife has
Barred me from the bedroom
And isn't letting me put the light on down here.
That's why I sit here, angry and writing poetry
In the dark to try to keep myself sane. It's not easy
To keep myself sane. Although she's kicked
Me down here, she won't leave me alone.
Shouting abuse, making herself
Feel better, but I have to say, it's not doing
Much for me.
So I pour myself another drink, a strong one.
Try to ignore her, finish this poem,
Worry about the morning.
Something tells me that it's not going to
Be much fun.