Not Quite Tasteless

When you yelled and called
Me worthless, it made me feel small,
The things you said about my
Mother, they aren’t true or nice,
I wanted our love to be a home,
In which we’d both reside, safe from
Rain, or extreme cold, a place
To sleep at night, and in our dreams,
We’d cuddle up, my limbs entwined
With yours, but now you’re mean,
And I know why you’re mean,
And I wish you’d stop screaming, but
It’s that time of the month again,
The time when you taste like
Salad dressing and raw beef.

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