Every Woman's Poem

He didn't like the casserole

And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked the s*** out of him ...
Like his mother used to do.