Pull me by the hair to the backyard,
Have me kneel before the shallow grave
And put a bullet through my head.
When my eyes are open
And they sleep,
I want to end them with a pillow to the head
Or poison in a cup
My own little ‘mommy’s special recipe’.
It’s the nagging
The little fights
The soul draining routine
The rearing and the roaring of little demons.
Then the love
Now, pull that trigger
And bury me with the pets.
When they ask you must tell them the truth, husband.
You tell them the truth.
There is no shame in that.