She is a low life skank
Trailer trash honey
Dressing all up
And taking your money
But I would trip her if I saw her
And spill my coffee on her dress
And make her into disheveled mess
And yes darlin,
She done you wrong,
So I wrote this song....
Your wife should not napalm your life
To sleep with all your friends
That was no way to make amends
It makes her just a hussy
And a low class ****
And there is no makeup or outfit That can dress that up
You can’t pull that kind of high jinx
And expect any man,
to ever fall for you again
So she will be alone, just wait and see
And we can sing about it and someday laugh you will see
Love you Cowboy Poet, this was not your fault . (C) Artimus Susan Manley 10:55 AM 10/30/23
He said he would never hit her again
She wanted to believe him of course
Sincere and apologetic
Her children begged her not to
Her parents were askance
She has been killed now
A child sad
Abuse is
Living
Rage
the music played,
in an unbalanced way.
teenager spins her around,
as if she were sixteen years old.
so many moons, have danced since then.
the room blurs with wedding guests.
she imagines them all watching,
her formal dress picking up speed.
caught in a whirlwind, she falls -
fearful and embarrassed.
her knight, who shines with armor
~ only one she trusts ~
straddles over her,
as if he has a cape that covers her,
blocking out the sunlight.
no one stares, as she seeks those knowing pupils.
his strong masculine hands pull her to her feet,
his warm romantic arms ~ shield her ~ from harm.
he’s been her date for more than fifty years.
she trusts his love, her fate in her spouse's embrace.
Kim Rodrigues ©2017