He walked through the nicotine haze
Of she who could never quite cope
His eyes had the permanent glaze
Of one barely maintaining hope
Approaching the gateway he paused
Reluctant to enter the den
Where venomous vitriol caused
A partially poisonous pen
Domestic defaults are a curse
When music keeps calling the tune
Of course things could always be worse
A song they might sing very soon.
Are You Reading Me?
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