Mrs. Wrong

She lives her life in retrospect
Looking at the time it was a wreck
Disease, divorce, and destitution
there can be no resolution

Hypochondriac, psychotic mess
she does what's right--that I'll confess
but in that warped and sickened mind
she cannot tell justice from crime

So she sits upon her twisted throne
in the grim death camp she calls a home
making decrees as she sees fit
not understanding or caring--not giving a shit

whatever it takes to feed her pride
regretting that she's not still his bride
but instead a rotting withered corpse
waiting for that indisputable force

to come and carry her away
like the huge dark birds of yesterday
or to sink into the ocean of black
with a carcinogenic heart attack