I don’t remember the last time you did something nice for me. Can’t you see why I’m upset? I guess I just get this way after too many days of no thank yous. I wish you’d put yourself in my shoes, so you can see what you’re doing to us. I don’t like to fuss because I’ve learned it won’t make things better, but then the feelings fester within me. I can’t see a solution. No resolution is possible; you’re always so hostile when I speak my mind. I guess I can never find the right words to explain this pain that seeps from my chest. The best I can do is write poetry, for me only, because I don’t have the balls to show this to you. I know what it will do; it will send you into a depression.
You’re so full of aggression; you have a tongue like a whip and no filter for your lips. You spit insults without thinking; I think it’s linked to your drinking. You sink to new lows, dishing out blows because weakening us makes you seem stronger. I can’t stand this much longer. In arguments, you’re the first one to shout, but you can’t take what you dish out. If I say something harsh you blow up, storm off in a huff. I’ve had enough. It’s time the queen was thrown from her throne. You have shown me no compassion but fashion your life around asking it from me. You live ridiculously, gone too long with no one to keep you in check. You forget that you need give and take to make a family last. But you ask so much of us, and give nothing in return; you’ve turned this house into a monarchy.
And I think we’re due for a mutiny
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