You seem rather impressed with yourself|
As if the master of a nasty cool
You might proudly mount a plaque on your shelf
Quite the opposite of the Golden Rule
When she left you that you might destroy us
You vowed then forever more to "dog" her
Was it you saw need to kill her because
She knew you were capable of murder?
That your campaign of so nasty revenge
Would destroy also your three fine children
Though of no concern to you, neatly trends
With her apocalyptic projection
Now, broken-down drunk, alone with your hurts
Pray hard God save you from your just desserts.