Routine Poem by April Avalon

 Your husband, unfaithful, and five stupid kids
Do grow the seeds of despair;
You water them amply, chain-eating with greed
Cheap sweets. Listen, quit it. Stare.

Your husband detests you. Accept it is true.
He needs ironed suits and your dinner.
However, he had kind of feelings for you
When you were much younger and thinner.


(П р о д о л ж и т ь ;)
All hope is gone,
You try to flee,
You're dreaming of the deep blue sea,
Remembering your honeymoon.
But hope is gone.
You'll wake up soon.

Your children are craving for stale breakfast pies,
Which wasted a couple nice hours.
Your husband can't hope with his hair and tie,
Your morning is fully devoured.

Brazilian tragedies on the blue screen
Appear your only salvation.
Most couples discover the same boring scene,
Routine is the pain of the nation.