Mrs. Misery

She wants to leave so bad,
But he won't let her.
All she does is sit around the house,
Looking at all the dingy objects,
Looking at all the books she's read 5 times over.
Her face is bruised,
And so is her dignity.
There she is, like a wallflower, just waiting.
Waiting for 5:00 to roll around,
So she can start cooking the roast.
He's home, and hungry,
He's tired, and angry.
She sets the table, and smiles sweetly,
He doesn't even acknowledge her.
She looks down, and leaves the room.
She cries momentarily,
Then returns to the kitchen.
He's in his Recliner, watching TV,
So she fixes herself a plate.
It's cold.
She does the dishes,
Then sits on the couch.
She's not interested in The Ed Wynn Show,
As she secretly glares at her husband.
She's lonely with him around,
Ugly with him around,
Sad with him around.
He's an all-around Misery Maker.
She leaves the TV room,
Going to the closet in their bedroom.
There, in an old hat box,
Lay her solution,
And she already feels a weight lifted.
She moves the box under her side of the bed,
And dresses into her nightgown.
She puts a change of clothes
Under the bathroom cabinet.
Walking in the kitchen,
She grabs the Cream of Kentucky Bourbon,
Pours a glass,
And sits on the couch.
After-while, they retire to bed.
She lays, with her eyes open,
And when she thinks he's really asleep,
She quietly pulls out the hat box,
Opens it, and
Grabs the .38 Revolver.
After making sure there's a bullet in the chamber,
She walks over to his side of the bed,
Pointing the gun right at his head,
She wakes him up.
"I just want you to know,
Before I kill you,
That you made my life
Miserable,
And I wonder why you
Even married me. But I
Don't believe in divorce.
'Til death do us part."
He was so shocked,
He didn't even move.
He just held his hand out,
As if signaling her to stop.
Before he could say anything,
She pulled the trigger.