Mum Is Angry
Hunting lips of rage shoot like a barrage
these sounds put on the run, a nearby witch
the victim’s now in need of bandage
covering the whole body stitch after stitch
everything near cracks, even the table
and all sense of opposition just die
try to calm her if you are able
if not satisfied, nothing she can buy
the louder she gets as the more she’s old
then her views rust to stay rigid and tight
junk of her patience, she’s already sold
as emotions run fast and out of sight
her internal heat burns any pottage
run from crazy mama, the new adage.
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