Poetry by Andrew Mitchell.
I’m the Queen of broken hearts
and feel desperately afraid.
“Oh Fuck, I’ve left the bed unmade!”
I cling to manmade reality,
with little pills and booze.
“Oh Fuck, what skirt should I choose?”
I look in the mirror and wonder at the
eye shadow I got last night for free.
“Oh Fuck, I need to make his tea!”
How on earth did this happen?,
my transformation from carefree child
to sad robotic Wife.
“oh Fuck, what happened to my life?”
I’m ready to make breakfast now,
and leave my room behind.
That feeling in my stomach
“Oh Fuck, I can’t push pause, stop or rewind”.