Home Cooked Meals
Mommy and I have to eat home cooked meals
At the restaurant
Because mommy is determined to keep up this
No one can know we live in misery.
Though we wear Oleg Cassini and
Carry a Coach purse
We live in love’s poverty.
I think I’m getting an ulcer.
But, she eats slow
And I clean my plate
Don’t want to get home too early
We want to waste time
And get home very late
We eat out almost every night
To make people think everythings alright
I no longer ask why she doesn’t confess
And try to get us out of this mess.
She just feels she’ll never be blessed
And she wants to keep her designer suits
She thinks she’s trapped
And it’s all very sad…
I think I’m getting an ulcer…
Copyright © Tyshawn Knight | Year Posted 2014
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